A Twist of Nate
by DaisyDay
Summary: All of Michael's spy training could not have prepared him for how to handle a troublesome client like Nate his brother nor a hot-headed girlfriend like Fi. Whether it's brotherly love or Fiona love, Michael better get ready for a bumpy ride!
1. Chapter 1

(Most characters are part of the Burn Notice universe)

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**BURN NOTICE**

**A Twist of Nate**

Chapter 1

Miami, Florida is a place filled with happy tourists, beautiful sunbathers, and A-list night clubbers.

But it is also a place filled with kidnappers, arms dealers, and drug traffickers.

And Michael Westen belonged to both worlds.

But today as Michael and Sam Axe sat outside the patio of Cafe Carlitos, they were enjoying the more desirable side of Miami, namely, the part that consisted of gorgeous people, sandy beaches and sun-kissed skies.

For even spies needed a break.

Especially when they were celebrating.

"Here's to another successful mission accomplished," Sam raised his glass and clinked it with Michael's.

"Sam…I couldn't have done it without you," Michael smiled, in one of his rare good moods.

He knew happy times like these were usually short-lived.

It wasn't that Michael was a cynic. From experience, he knew that a sense of happiness might only last as long as it took to empty his drink. It was just a matter of time before someone would be in need of his "special" talents. And that time was usually more sooner than later.

For a spy, trouble could begin with something as simple as a quick glance or a warm greeting. Whether he is meeting with a stranger, a past acquaintance, or a friend, a spy knows any one of them could connect him to a situation known as danger.

But Sam Axe was not of the same mind. Under the clear skies of Miami, he took another gulp of his drink as he languidly watched the world go by. His thoughts were of relaxation as he expounded another one of his famous Sam Axe proverbs.

"I tell you, Mikey, life is about getting a beer, sitting your keester down, and enjoying the view_._"

As Sam continued taking in the Miami ambiance, something, or rather _someone_ caught his attention.

"…And, Mikey, speaking of _enjoying the view_, check out over to your right, at three o-clock. Wowza!"

Michael slightly turned his head in the direction indicated, knowing that for Sam, "the view" meant another beautiful, anonymous female.

While Michael was not one to "check out the ladies", a quick glance told him that admittedly, Sam was right this time. Even from here, Michael could see that the lone woman reading a novel was stunning.

Sitting at the last table in the patio was a blonde haired woman who could easily have been the model on the cover of the Sports Illlustrated swimsuit edition. With gorgeous blonde locks that tumbled well past her shoulders, it served as an attractive frame that emphasized the sensual loveliness of her features. This included a perfect nose, large eyes and ripe-looking full lips.

Voluptuously fit, she wore a striped tee shirt with a boat-neck collar over tight jeans. Although modestly dressed, she easily stood out among the teeny-weeny bikini-wearing young females.

At that same moment, the woman happened to look up from her book in Michael's direction. Even with his sunglasses on, Michael felt the intensity of that gaze striking him. He could not break off the stare although it sent a ripple of unease throughout his body.

Sam also noticed the woman looking their way and gave an obvious welcome wave. They watched as she looked away to her side, lifted her index finger, and summoned the waitress over. She scribbled something down on a scrap of paper and handed it over to the waitress.

The waitress was heading their way with the note.

"Mikey, I think she just passed us a note in study hall!" Sam grinned and rubbed his hands together in happy anticipation.

When the waitress arrived, Sam leaned forward in his seat, but she instead reached out with the note towards Michael.

Michael scowled slightly, not sure what to make of the situation.

"Okay..._sure_..." acquiesced Sam to the waitress, "I've already had my fill of love notes this morning, so, yeah, go ahead and pass that one over to my buddy there."

"You're Michael Westen, right?" the waitress asked Michael, "The lady at that last table requested I give this note only to you."

Michael stared at the note and contemplated whether he should accept it. How did the blonde female know his name? The waitress stood there, patiently waiting. Removing his sunglasses, Michael hesitantly reached out for the note and unfolded it:

_**Mike,**_

_** Please help me.**_

_** XOXO**_

Sam leaned over to view the contents of the note.

"Whoa! Have you been keeping a secret from me, 'ol buddy?" Sam asked, "You seem to know this woman."

Michael turned over the paper. Blank. Flipping it back, he stared hard at the writing on the paper.

"Sam, believe me, "Michael stated, looking over at his friend, "_Her,_ I would remember."

"Well, she obviously knows _you_," said Sam, "After all, people do not 'x-o-x-o' complete strangers. Think back. Maybe in the past some 'wango tango' occurred between the two of you."

Although Michael remained composed on the outside, internally, his mind was reeling, trying to recall something that had not been etched in the recesses of his mind.

Barely moving his head, he glanced her way and his stomach did a flip at the knowledge that she had been staring intently at him the entire time. Hoping to break off her gaze, he gave a slight nod to acknowledge receipt of the note.

A dazzling smile appeared on her face as she interpreted Michael's nod for an invitation to join them. She shut her novel, stood up and ambled their way.

Uh-oh. Not the reaction he was expecting.

"Put this in the 'win' column for us, buddy; she's headed our way!" announced Sam, looking pleased.

Quite a few heads turned as she approached Michael and Sam at where they sat. Her body effortlessly maneuvered around the patio's tables and chairs, with an ease that showed she was used to having all eyes focused on her. She reached Michael and Sam in no time.

The entire situation was happening too quickly for Michael.

"Hello, Mike," She greeted him warmly, "it's wonderful to see you again!"

Her tone was casual, almost perky as she took it upon herself to sit down. As she adjusted herself on the chair, it gave Michael the opportunity to observe her unobtrusively and he came to one conclusion.

She was absolutely gorgeous.

Michael was _positive_ he had not met her before.

Who _was_ she?

"Have…we…met before?" Michael asked.

Internally Michael kicked himself for asking the typical bar pick-up line, especially since he _was_ at a bar. He had not meant to word it that way. Next, she'll expect him to ask for her astrological sign.

She leaned forward to say something, her eyes lingering a little too long on Michael. He was mesmerized by her closeness. Whatever fragrance she was wearing spoke of light floral femininity. Michael tried not to look as flustered as he felt.

"I'm disappointed you don't recognize me, Mike, " she looked chagrin, "especially since _you were my first_."

Michael was already prepared with different scenarios on what she might say, but he certainly did not expect her to say _that._

Throughout this time, Sam had been casually taking in the scene as he enjoyed his beer. Her last remark, however, brought a convulsion of coughs from Sam as he choked on his beer.

Michael had no comeback as he used all his spy training to force his facial muscles to remain impassive. But he wasn't totally successful as his eyes opened slightly at the stunning statement.

Memories from long ago entered his mind as Michael recalled that in high school, his "first" had been Gina De Luca. This definitely was not her. Michael looked at Sam for help.

Sam's coughing had subsided by now, so he spoke up.

"Whoa. We haven't been formally introduced, but I feel a need to jump in here." Sam seemed careful with his next words,"So what you're saying...if I heard you right…is that you were the first to…uh…_butter Mikey's toast?_"

This time it was Michael's turn to cough.

Sam was going to be _burnt_ toast when Michael gets through with him.

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Please note: this story takes place pre-season five.

_I'm sooo happy to be back with a new story!_

_I know there is no Nate in this chapter...but story-wise, he is waiting on the sidelines!_

_(This is a sequel to "Mom's the Word", but it is not necessary to read that story to understand this one.)_

_Let me know what you think! **Please review**._


	2. Chapter 2

Michael's next case

Chapter 2

The beautiful mystery woman stated that Michael was her first.

_Impossible._

She waited for his response.

A spy works hard at perfecting the "no reaction" expression. His face should never give away his internal thoughts. Best to keep them guessing.

Michael Westen had learned that lesson well. Even when fighting against several people at once, his visage would remain neutral. So to see his demeanor slightly crumble with one sentence uttered by a very pretty, petite woman was very unusual indeed.

Michael looked puzzled, "You're not…"

"No, Mike, whomever you are thinking of, that's not me," the blonde-haired woman stated cryptically.

She was being evasive. He did not know why he was being taken in merely because she was attractive. Perhaps he should end this.

"We are done here." He started to get up from the chair.

"Wait! Mike, _please_ listen to me!" the woman pleaded, "We _definitely_ know each other. However, there is something more urgent I need to speak to you about. _Please_!."

She looked so earnest.

He found himself oddly short of breath at her desperation. As if he was the only one who could help her.

Michael lowered himself back down again in his seat. Looking into her eyes, he noted they were the subtle color of scotch whiskey.

What was wrong with him?

He had Fiona.

"I'm listening," Michael sounded businesslike, "but don't waste my time."

"I'm listening, too," piped in Sam, "_and_ you can waste my time."

She had the courtesy to give Sam a warm smile.

It disappeared as she became serious again and leaned in towards Michael. It was oddly intimate, as he watched her, riveted.

She gestured towards the green sedan parked across the street. "May we talk privately in my car?"

Michael noted the secluded car across the way. It definitely was not her car. The vehicle was a rental with tinted windows. Suspicious. Then factor in a beautiful damsel in distress and you have the makings of some sort of trap. Michael turned to Sam for his reaction.

"It sounds like a plan, Mikey," stated Sam, "a very _bad_ plan."

Spies should always trust their instincts.

But damn, if his curiosity didn't override his intuitive misgivings.

He had far too many questions and not enough answers.

A decision was made.

"We'll go," agreed Michael, as he stood up.

Her lips curved into a lovely smile as she also got up to leave.

"Mikey..." warned Sam, before Michael silenced him with a "make-sure-you-watch-my-back" look.

Sam nodded and patted the area he kept his concealed gun, "I've got you covered, buddy."

Michael and the mystery woman left Sam and walked in tandem across the street.

Michael hoped he wasn't going to regret this.

When they had arrived at the green car, the woman opened the door on the passenger side while indicating the back seat for Michael.

Someone was already occupying the driver's side of the car. With the car door opened, Michael stooped down to view the driver.

As soon as he saw the driver, he regretted not trusting his instincts.

Sitting on the driver's side was none other than his younger brother, Nate Westen.

This was indeed a trap. A most annoying trap.

"Hey, Bro!" Nate greeted him with a big smile, "**Surprise**!" He enthusiastically waved Michael in, "It's me! Get in! Get in!"

Nate supposedly was residing with his wife and baby back in Las Vegas. Now he was back in Miami, hopefully on vacation. Please let it be that.

Michael stood outside the vehicle, his elbow resting on the top of the vehicle, debating. He took in the surroundings. The Miami sidewalks were brimming with activity. Pedestrians walked everywhere with purpose. Traffic thundered on the busy streets. All around, people were savoring the sights of the city.

Just like what he had been doing twenty minutes earlier.

"Bro?" Nate spoke from inside the car.

Michael was tempted to make a quick exit. But family was family, and this was his: a meddling mother and his unreliable, trouble-filled brother. Against his better judgement, he got in the car.

From the driver's seat, Nate gave a relieved smile. He seemed genuinely happy to see Michael.

As Michael sat in the back seat, the woman, who had been still standing outside the vehicle, poked her head in. She announced that perhaps the two brothers might want some bonding time alone. She would wait outside the car.

She then shut the passenger car door, leaving Michael and Nate to deal with each other. The tinted windows gave the interior of the car a dark presence. Michael hated the closed confines of the car.

"What do you want from me _now_, Nate?" Michael sounded slightly irritated from the back seat as Nate turned fully around to face Michael.

"Hey, is that any way to greet your little brother after all this time, Michael?" Nate stated, his smile dissipating, "Why do you always have to think I want something from you?"

"Maybe it's because you always _do_ want something from me." Michael heaved a sigh of frustration.

Nate opened his mouth to protest, but then he thought better of it. After all, he _did_ need something from Michael.

"Yeah, well, to be honest, There _is_ just one small favor I need from you." Nate admitted.

Michael sighed. Here it comes.

"So ask, Nate."

"Well, actually _two_ very small favors," Nate stated, showing the minuteness with his fingers, "Very small, Bro. Teeny-weeny, in fact."

Why did I even get in this car? Michael thought regretfully.

"Before we discuss 'favors', Nate, tell me who that mystery woman is."

"Uh, funny you should say that, Michael...because ..._that_ is one of the favors. You see, I _kinda_ told her and Ruthie _a little white lie._ "

Michael knew he wasn't going to like where this was headed. "Which was...?"

"...Which was ..." began Nate as he quickly rattled off the last part, "that... I- was- a-spy and- you- worked-for-me."

He slightly cowered at Michael's controlled irritation.

"_What_?" Michael sounded incredulous, "You, a spy? _And_ my boss? Why in the world would you tell them that, Nate?"

"Because...because it sounded better than the truth... that I was a reformed two-bit con artist- slash- gambler!" Nate said, looking defensive, "You think back then Ruthie would have given me the time of day if she knew my past? So, yeah, I fudged the truth! I told both of them my gig as a limo driver was just a cover for my real life as a spy. So sue me!"

"Nate... Nate," said Michael, shaking his head.

I know, oh I know. It wasn't the right thing to tell them," continued Nate, "but you gotta admit-being a secret spy sounds _pretty cool! _Right?"

"Nate... people do not become spies because it's 'cool'. It's dangerous. Deadly dangerous. Besides, sooner or later, the truth will come out. It's better to come clean now."

"Don't worry, bro," Nate's natural easy, breezy demeanor reappeared, "I've got the whole spy thing under control."

"_Nate_-"

But Nate had already reached over to the passenger side and tapped the window with the back of his knuckles, signaling to the woman waiting outside that their "brotherly greeting" was over.

The passenger side door opened as the attractive woman peeked in.

"I hope you two were able to greet each other properly," she said, "is it okay that I join you two now?"

"Sure! sure!" Nate gestured her in and waited until she was seated. "Michael was just saying he would be willing to help us!"

Nate quickly turned to give Michael a look as if to say, _please, Bro, please!"_

Michael started to say something, but then just sat back quietly in his seat. Nate looked relieved and attempted to change the subject.

"I see you've become reacquainted with Elizabeth again." Nate stated.

So _that's_ her name, Michael thought, as he ran her name through his memory banks. Elizabeth. _Elizabeth_. Elizabeth who? There was no Elizabeth in his memory that resembled her.

"Yes, _Elizabeth_, "agreed Michael, with his feigned smile, "_Ri-ight_. It's been... how many years now?"

"Too many to count!" Elizabeth opaquely replied, "I had forgotten how much I missed living in Miami."

Mike's mind was working rapidly. She called him "Mike", a name he used mostly in his youth up through college. And she had not been in Miami in many years. At least she was not connected to his spy life.

"Did you know, Michael, that Elizabeth had been living near Ruthie and me in Vegas?" Nate asked.

A not so pleasant scenario entered Michael's head at hearing Elizabeth had been their neighbor.

"Uh, Nate," began Michael, "while I am glad to see you…and of course, Elizabeth, too…where is Ruth and the baby? Is everything alright between you two?"

"Couldn't be better!" beamed Nate, "Little Charlie is back in Vegas with Ruthie's mom. Liz hitched a ride with Ruthie and me. We got in this morning and I came right away to see you because you are my _top bro!_"

Or your _only_ bro, thought Michael.

From the passenger seat, a look of apprehension had appeared on Elizabeth's face.

"Let's tell him _now_, Nate," she whispered somewhat nervously.

Uh-oh.

"Shush, Lizzie, Not yet!" Nate murmured, out of the side of his mouth.

Michael placed his hand on the car door handle. He should leave while he was still not involved.

"He can help us!" Elizabeth answered back.

All Michael had to do was pull the handle down and get out.

"I don't know. I mean, what about... Ruthie?" Nate ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

Whatever it was, it had to do with Ruth. Michael could only come to one conclusion. These two had some kind of fling, Ruth found out, and she left Nate.

Nate may have bungled it, but for the sake of Ruth, Michael removed his hand from the car door handle.

"I want the truth, Nate." Michael commanded in his older brother's voice, "Does this problem concern Ruth?"

Elizabeth looked at each brother, then back at Nate.

"My God, Nate, he's guessed it halfway already! "

Michael was getting impatient.

"Nate, what the hell is going on? You let me know _now_, or I swear, _I will get up and walk away_ from another mess you've probably gotten yourself into!"

Nate snapped back.

"There you go again," Nate fumed "always thinking the worst of me! Letting me know once _again,_ how I've failed to meet your unattainable high standards!"

Michael started to open is mouth in retort.

"Nate..._stop_! and Mike, don't answer him!" Elizabeth interrupted, "_Please_! Tell him, Nate! We are wasting precious time!"

Whatever the news, it was time- sensitive.

Michael was already prepared to hear a story about a distressed or jealous Ruth. He watched Nate, whose whole demeanor had faltered. Nate was shaking his head, with a lost look.

"Michael... Bro…It's so hard to admit it... " Nate's voice sounded shaky and scared as he looked back up at Michael, "it's Ruthie… _she's been kidnapped!_"

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_Please review._


	3. Chapter 3

Blah-blah-blah. The explanation

Chapter 3

The interior of the stationary green sedan seemed even more enclosed as Michael took in what Nate was saying.

"Nate, did I hear right? Did you say Ruth had been _kidnapped_?"

Looking miserable, Nate nodded.

"So why didn't you come immediately and tell me?" Michael wanted to know.

"I told him that, too!" interjected Elizabeth.

"Because I knew I would get a lecture from you, and sure enough, here it is!" argued Nate, "According to you, this was another mess I have gotten myself into..did I get the words right, Michael?"

"That was before I knew it was a kidnapping, Nate. I had no way of knowing Ruth was in trouble! You _know_ I will help in any way I can."

"_Really_, Bro? "he asked with anger in his tone, "So _now_ you want to help? I'd wished you would make up your mind! First you say I need to solve problems on my own, and when I try, then you say I need help from you! Which is it?"

"My God, is this how you two interact?" Elizabeth looked at one, and then the other, "It's like one stubborn brick wall talking to another stubborn brick wall! How do you two ever get your missions accomplished?."

There was a certain veracity to what she said. Michael observed Nate's miserable expression and backed down. No use pounding him with words of accusations. After all, his wife was missing.

Nate must be under a lot of stress.

"Look, I'm sorry...I didn't mean...Nate, I'm here for you...We're brothers...there is no need for us to argue further. We need to focus on getting Ruth back so that she's safe with us again."

Michael's tone was empathetic. Nate looked appreciative at his older brother, as relief filled his eyes.

"So you're saying we'll both save her..." Nate asked in a calm manner as his eyes looked at Michael questionably, "together?"

"Sure," agreed Michael, "but we can't be a team unless you let me know what is happening."

Nate nodded as he explained.

_The three of them had just arrived in Miami yesterday. That night Ruthie said she would run an errand to the bank. She had been gone a long time. Two hours later, Nate received a call saying not to contact the police if he ever wanted to see her alive again. The kidnapper said he was holding Ruthie and would call again with his demands._

_Elizabeth had insisted for Nate to get "his spy team" together, but Nate didn't want Michael's help. He insisted he would handle it himself. However, Elizabeth warned that if he didn't contact Michael, then she would do it herself; thus Nate had no choice. _

_So it was Nate who had concocted the whole "let him first meet a stranger from past," scenario, thinking Michael might be more amendable to listening if he thought he was helping someone else. Then Nate would swoop in with the "favor."_

That was Nate. Always devising ways to involve Michael in his schemes.

Of course, this was one of the few times it was not a selfish act. So Michael listened carefully to what his younger brother had to say.

"Okay...this is what we'll do, Nate. I'll get...that is to say...I'll _help_ you get _your_ team together on this mission. I'm sure we'll have Ruth back here safe and sound in no time."

Nate grinned, as he started to get excited once more.

"Okay...Done deal!" Nate looked satisfied, "We are in this together! Great! Great! And you know, Bro, I have all kinds of plans in my head! _All kinds_! They're just swimming around up there like a school of fish!"

There seemed to be a thin line between frustrated Nate and determined Nate. Both could sound crazily enthusiastic.

"Slow down, Nate," said Michael, knowing his brother loved to jump from one thing to the next without thinking it through. A kidnapping was a very serious matter. They really needed to coordinate how they were going to work this through.

Michael was already thinking of how he would get Sam involved. He also needed to contact Fi, too. At the thought of Fi, Michael sneaked a peek at Elizabeth. Fi meeting Elizabeth. Awkward...or...uh, more like dangerous.

_For him._

He wondered if Elizabeth was really part of his past or was it another ruse Nate had made up. The only way to know was to ask her directly.

"Elizabeth," he asked bluntly,"had we actually met somewhere before?"

From the front seat in the car, Elizabeth smiled.

"Still cannot remember? I don't blame you. It was quite a while back, Mike."

"Did we ever work together?"

"No."

"Did we go to the same school?"

"No."

"Uh, did we date?"

The last question brought a bigger smile to Elizabeth's face. She read impatience from Michael, and didn't want to prolong his frustration any longer.

"Mike, you probably knew me by the name I went by as a young girl. Does the name 'Beth' ring a bell?"

Michael thought back. The old neighborhood. He was in sixth grade. Flashes of someone running in a park. It was Beth, tomboy, with pigtails and braces. Balloons. Decorations. A cake. He recalled a birthday party.

Michael turned to look at her as the long ago memories came flooding back.

"Beth...we were at Jennifer's birthday party."

Elizabeth brightened at Mike's recollection of her.

"Then you must remember playing 'Spin-the-bottle. And when the bottle pointed to you, you looked so miserable when you were forced to kiss me."

Michael grinned, "I guess I was the typical boy. Girls had cooties back then. "

"But thank goodness boys grew out of _that_ way of thinking," she commented.

"But not before that dreaded bottle and the kiss," agreed Michael, a little embarrassed, "I guess that _did_ make it the first time for me."

"For both of us."

They looked at each other for a split second longer than they should at that shared memory.

Mystery solved. At least part of it.

"Okay, you two. So are we _done_ with the walk down memory lane?" Nate was impatiently, " 'I hope so, because we've got to get a move on! "

From the driver's side, Nate turned around and started the engine of the car. He shifted the car in drive. Michael had just enough time to roll down the window to give Sam an "okay" signal before they drove away.

What was Nate up to now?

"Where are we headed to at a time like this?" Michael asked, as Nate drove on.

Nate looked down at his watch, with a new inspired attitude.

"We, Bro, are going to kick some butt at the zoo!" Nate said, sounding his usual hyper self again.

The zoo? Maybe the pressure was getting to Nate so he wasn't thinking straight. Elizabeth turned towards the back seat to explain to Michael.

"At exactly noon, the kidnapper will call Nate with further instructions at a cell phone left under a picnic table bench, closest to the entrance of the zoo," she explained.

That was an hour from now.

The situation still did not add up right. But Michael was used to thinking fast on his feet. He just wished he could do it without Nate jumping in every 5 seconds with an unexpected "Let's do this, let's do that!"

But before he could ask, an unwelcome sound could be heard outside their vehicle. Michael's experienced ears picked up the sound of resounding shots from a revolver.

_Pah-chow_! _Pah-chow!_

The sudden gunshots were aimed at the back of their car.

"_My God!_" yelled a scared Elizabeth, covering her head, "_What was that?_"

"Bro! Am I hearing it right? Are those... gunshots?"Nate's eyes darted to his rear view mirror.

"_What_? _Those are gunshots?_ " panicked Elizabeth, "You mean to tell me _the kidnapper is shooting at us?_"

There was the audible sound of the engine revving from Nate's car.

"Don't worry, Lizzie!" Nate assured her, as he slapped the top of the dashboard, "I can make this baby fly!" Nate was already pressing his foot on the gas pedal, causing their car to speed up.

Michael didn't understand any of this. A kidnapper shooting at them? Why would a kidnapper chase them down in a car and fire at them when they were on their way to hear the kidnapper's demands? Obviously, the kidnapper would not receive any ransom money if he killed the victim's family.

Time to ponder all that later. Right now, he needed to concentrate on the present situation. They were being chased by an unknown gunman with Nate as the driver.

"Nate!..." Michael shouted as their speed continued to accelerate.

_What the hell was going on?_

_._

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_I've titled this chapter "Blah-blah-blah" because i needed to get the exposition out of the way. Not my favorite to write, but I hope you still found this chapter interesting or intriguing. My fingers are itching to type some action in, so look for some in the next chapter!_

_Until then, please review._


	4. Chapter 4

Fiona Glenanne, Bounty Hunter

Chapter 4

It had been two days since Fi had seen Michael, and as much as she hated to admit it to herself, she really missed him.

But she also had her own job to do, and sometimes work took precedence over a personal life.

Fi had spent so much time helping on various assignments for Michael, that sometimes she forgot about her own professional pursuits. So it had taken her a couple of weeks to track down Sid Bailey.

Sid Bailey was a mob henchman. He had been caught in an FBI sting operation and was charged with committing crimes based on orders from his mob boss. When he had been released on bail, he had failed to appear in court.

It was time she went to work.

Fiona had tracked him down to an older neighborhood in Coral Gables, just south of Little Havana. He lived in a dull, beige corner house. Peeling paint and overgrown shrubbery showed a lack of care to his home. Of course, one could reason that the poor upkeep was due to the fact that he didn't want to be seen out and about.

She had been watching the house from across the street for the hour. Not much activity going on inside the home, so she knew he must be the only one there.

Sometimes she liked to burst through a door with guns blazing, but today, she wasn't in any rush. It would give her something to do, rather than sit around, thinking about Michael.

She strolled up the dilapidated steps and knocked on the door.

No answer.

Oh, he needs some persuasion, she thought, smiling to herself, as she brought her weapon up from her side

As she yelled for Bailey, she used the wide end of her AK-74 assault rifle to pound on the door.

"_Bailey! Open the door! Open it now or I swear I'll **blast** it wide open!"_

It did not take long for her to hear lumbering footsteps. The door swung opened.

His figure loomed huge and shadowy against a dirty screen door.

The first thing Fiona thought was that this guy was solidly built. He was big and wide with arms that looked like corded wood.

But Fiona was not intimidated as she kept her weapon close to her side.

"Let me in, Bailey…and we'll talk."

When he first came to the door, he initially had an angry expression. But at the sight of the attractive, slight woman, he went from looking angry to looking perturbed.

"You a cop? 'Cause you don't look like one and you don't scare me like one, even with that gun! So I ain't letting you in unless you got some _official_ papers!"

Fiona rolled her eyes. She sometimes hated that she didn't look intimidating. The individuals she sought always had a cavalier attitude upon meeting her.

Then again, Fi found it amusing to show them she meant business.

Turning her rifle around, she used the butt of it and rammed it numerous times against the filthy screen door. The net screen of the door ripped in several places as dust flew up.

"Hey! Hey! What the f*ck lady!" he said.

Fi reached in the broken screen to unlock the door to let herself in. He backed up as she entered.

"I'll just have to let myself in, then," Fi said as she nonchalantly wiped some dust off her flowy top.

"Hey, you can't just enter a private premise without a search warrant! That's illegal!" he looked menacingly at her as she was now standing in the middle of his living room.

I'm not a cop," responded Fi, " so I don't _need_ authority to enter private property. I am here, Bailey, because you've jumped bail, so that makes _you_ the one that committed the illegal act."

Bailey scowled, as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Fi took in his entire persona and immediately noticed his one identifying feature, a tatoo of a knife dripping with blood, located at the side of his neck. It was meant as a means of intimidation, but Fi always thought a tattoo was a bad move for anyone dedicated to a life of crime. It would make it that much easier for anyone to be able to ID him in the future.

"Okay, if you're not a cop, lady, then you must be some kinda god damn bounty hunter."

"We prefer calling ourselves _fugitive recovery agents,"_ said Fi as she looked around the squalid conditions, before looking straight at him again, "and I plan to do my job today."

She still had not lifted her gun to him.

"The f*ck you will!" he said

"Oh my, such a scary comeback." Fi did not look scared at all, even though the guy had over 100 pounds of muscles over her.

"Oh you talk big with that peashooter in your hands," Bailey grunted the words, "but I know you ain't gonna use it, 'cuz guess what? _You- gotta- bring- me- back- alive._"

He said the last part in a sing-song way.

"That's the first smart thing you've said today, Bailey." Fi responded, as she physically flung her rifle aside.

Bailey's mouth curved into an intimidating smile. He had this bimbo now.

"So…" said Fi, as she bought the handcuffs around from the back-pocket of her jeans, "are you coming with me peacefully, or not?"

He snickered, at her little bravado game. Did she really think he would come peacefully because she had the law on her side? She was _nothin'_ without her gun.

"You can go to hell, B*tch!" he said.

Fiona calmly tsked, tsked him.

"If you use another curse word, I will be forced to silence you."

Fi's cool and collected attitude was starting to annoy Bailey who now sneered and pointed at her.

"_You_?' You gonna silence _me_?" He showed off by flexing his muscles, "You don't get that it don't bother me none to hit a b*tch, so let's just see who's the real goddamn badass!'

He started towards her.

Fi barely moved. He was almost upon her now. At just the right moment her arm suddenly shot up and she delivered a sharp punch to his solar plexus. She was tiny, but she knew how to throw all her well-toned, solid weight behind her hit.

And she knew exactly where to hit, too. She purposely aimed for the network of nerves located behind the abdomen, considered one of the most vulnerable areas of the human body.

Surprised, Bailey stumbled back at the single blow. He was gasping, unable to get any oxygen into his lungs.

"_Didn't I tell you not to curse?_" Fi raised her voice.

It took him a few seconds to recover and when he did, pure fury showed on his face.

"B*tch!" he said, "_I'm gonna tear you apart!_"

He angrily charged towards her, this time staying clear of her arms. But Fi expected that. As he rushed forward, she delivered a quick roundhouse kick, again to his solar plexus. The wind gushed out of him. Bailey's eyes bulged out, but he somehow remained on two feet

"There are 206 bones in the body and if you don't cooperate, you will have 205 unbroken bones left in your body," guaranteed Fiona.

Damn it, who is this b*tch? He thought to himself. His fury gave him extra strength. He was going to kill her.

He made another quick movement to grab her.

Fi moved slightly and then pounded a sharp sidekick to Bailey's lower leg. There was a cracking sound, like someone stepping on a dry twig.

Bailey let out a scream this time as he went down. Laying on his side, he groaned in pain as he held his leg.

"Now you have two-hundred and _five_ unbroken bones in your body...and the number _could_ keep going down..." said Fiona, as she looked down at a possible broken nail on her hand.

"You broke my freakin' leg!" he yowled.

Fiona wordlessly held up the handcuffs for him to see as Bailey stayed on the floor, pure agony on his face. She went over and lightly kicked him in the back, as he reluctantly sat up. She then stood behind him and grabbed his arms together behind him to handcuff him.

"My leg is _killing_ me!"He bellowed in pain like a big baby.

"To be more specific, it was your right tibia that's killing you," she announced.

She clinked the handcuffs together and double-checked the lock, "so you will come peacefully, or I will apply my awesome axe kick and you will acquire one other broken bone you cannot identify correctly. Patients at the South Miami Hospital have told me my axe kick is the most effective in my arsenal of kicks."

Still sitting on the ground, Bailey broke out in a sweat at the thought of another kick. His eyes narrowed like slits as he looked up at her.

"W-who the hell _are_ you, anyway?" he asked.

Fiona smiled. Some days, she really loved her job.

.

.

_Obviously, this occurred before Fi knew anything about Nate, Elizabeth or the kidnapping!_

**_Please review._**


	5. Chapter 5

Dead Man's Curve

Chapter 5

Michael was in another car chase. It seemed as if he was involved in one as often as Fi switched shoes.

He could not figure out why a _kidnapper_ would not only be chasing them, but firing at them as well. It really did not make sense.

Nate stepped on the accelerator as Michael turned around at the back window before ducking his head as another two shots were fired.

_Pah-chow! Pah-chow!_

From the quick glance back, he realized the shooter was _not_ the kidnapper.

Michael's past was catching up to him, once again.

A familiar red pickup truck was tailing them. Michael knew the driver of the truck from his last case. He, Sam, and Fi had exterminated Tom Turner's bank robbing gang—all except Fred the bartender. Fred must have been following them since they had left Carlitos, seeking revenge.

"The driver behind us is not a kidnapper," Michael clarified, "nevertheless, that driver means business."

They could hear the the sound of the engine roaring, as the vehicle from behind seemed to be gaining on them.

"Nate! Do something!" yelled Elizabeth nervously, "Get your gun!"

_Get his gun_? Nate didn't even own a gun.

"Uh…" Nate darted his eyes quickly to view all his vehicle's mirrors, "Uh… no…I-I don't have my gun with me. I left my gun—back…back with my suitcase!... Bro, you have yours?"

Nate with a gun? _Sure,_ Michael thought sardonically. Nate barely knew how to properly _hold_ a gun, much less shoot one.

"Too bad about _your gun,_ " Michael played along, "As for me, I don't like to drink and drive... and gun carry."

Casually drinking the afternoon away with Sam seemed like a lifetime ago.

_Pah-chow! Pah-chow!_

The fired shots brought Michael back to the reality of the situation.

"Nate, make him stop firing at us!" yelled Elizabeth.

"Idiot driver!" yelled Nate, "Maybe I should just slam on my brakes and let him plow into me! This car could probably handle the impact, right? I bet he'll get the brunt of it!"

"Now, Nate, hold on! You don't want to do anything irrational!" Michael warned. How many times he had said those exact same words to Nate?

A spy knows it's an off- day when the knowledge of a kidnapping is the _least_ of his worries.

"_Man oh man_," said Nate, "if I had a gun...I mean _my_ gun...right now, I'd shoot the guy where the sun don't shine!"

_Pah-chow! Pah-chow!_

A plan began to form in Michael's head.

"Nate!" conspired Michael, leaning forward in the car, "drive towards the curve on Lyons Road, and stay on the center lane the entire way."

"You mean _Dead Man's Curve_? Alright! N_ow_ you're talking!" Nate's car screeched as it made a U turn. The red truck followed closely behind.

Lyon's Road was a four-lane divided highway that curved this way and that under Miami's indigenous palm tree canopy.

At one high point up the highway was a curve that was deceptively sharp, thus earning the name of _Dead Man's Curve_, from the song title immortalized by Jan and Dean in the 1960's.

Safety measures such as speed limit signs and guardrails did not help. The ground around this curve showed evidence of skid marks-the aftermath of poor driving skills by unlucky, careless motorists.

Nate floored the accelerator as the car raced towards the curve. Michael was thankful that with Nate's limo driving experience, he was a fast and skilled driver. Nate even managed to break away from the red truck, but Michael knew he would not be able to shake a determined Fred and his gun for long.

Michael unbuckled his seatbelt and reached forward.

"Mike! What are you doing?" Elizabeth's voice sounded panicky, as she watched him.

"Using some creativity to protect us." Michael explained.

"Good!" said Nate from the front seat, "I figured one of my previous plans should get us out of this mess!"

Ignoring Nate's last comment, Michael flipped open the top of the center console. He grabbed hold of the sides of the compartment unit inside. Michael pulled straight out. It took a bit of effort, but the rectangular bin was released from the console holder. He set it aside.

Wind whooshed outside the vehicle. The noise of the engine increased as Nate's foot pressed further down on the accelerator.

They were headed towards Dead Man's Curve.

"Okay, now Nate, I want you to _slow down_ _now_ before we get to the curve," Michael stated calmly over the roar of the engine, "then you will speed up again on my say-so."

"Slow down? Are you CRAZY, Michael?" Nate shouted defiantly as he drove on, "That red truck will catch up to us! I think I am going to go all out and speed up-that truck can't be as fast as me on that curve!"

Both vehicles proceeded onto Dead Man's Curve. The noise of their engines were deafening.

"_No,_ Nate. You are going to listen to me. Uh...don't you recall when we did a similar maneuver in Herzegovina? Remember how we let that operative catch up to us?" Michael tried to slowly articulate the instructions, "We'll do just like that... No overspeeding, alright? Fast. Slow. Fast. Slow. Stay in the center lane... On my call, you will ram its left side... And Elizabeth, when the truck gets to the right side of you, DUCK!"

"Oh, like our previous mission in ...Herzo...uh...that Eastern central country..got it, got it!" Nate said as he slightly let his foot off the brake. Next time Michael needed to pick a country like "Turkey" or "Poland" so Nate could pronounce it

After decelerating for awhile, Nate grew impatient and started speeding up again.

"I still think I can outdrive him!" Nate started to accelerate again.

"No, Nate!"

"I can do it, Bro!"

The strong wind continued to gust outside.

"Nate, _you will listen to me_ or...or I will tell Elizabeth about your experience as a spy..._all _of it_!_"

"I'd like that!" said Elizabeth.

"You wouldn't, Bro!"

"_Try me_, Nate."

Not looking happy, Nate reluctantly eased off on the gas pedal as the car ascended the high curvy climb. The red truck, with its four-wheel drive option, was gaining.

_Pah-chow_.

Another bullet hit Nate's car in the back.

"I think this slowing down is putting us in danger!" whined Nate, "I'm telling you, I can go faster!"

"_Just maintain this speed, Nate_."

Now the truck was easing up to the side of Nate's vehicle. Both vehicles were slowly ascending higher and higher. Michael almost expected to hear the theme to "Jaws" as the pickup truck eerily drove along the right side of them.

Elizabeth ducked low as the truck came up her side.

"OmigodOmigod, I'm so scared!" she shakily shouted while crouched down.

"I should ram him on the side now!" insisted Nate.

"Nate...stick to the plan..."

Both vehicles drove side-by-side as they headed towards the curve. They could see Fred lower the window of his truck now. He tried to steady his weapon out the window as the vehicles continued on.

"Start speeding up NOW!" said Michael and immediately their car pulled ahead. Still trying to get a good aim, Fred accelerated also. As soon as Fred caught up, Michael would tell Nate to slow down, and once again, their vehicle fell slightly behind.

If a spy is involved in a car chase, chances are, the other operative will aim his weapon at the car windows. Damage the windows, and you damage the people inside. The strategy for that operative is to hit the window dead on, thereby achieving the most injury with either the shattered glass or the speeding bullet.

But hit anywhere outside of a perpendicular angle to the glass, and the result of the shot becomes unpredictable. Bullet trajectory is the key. Hit the window at a drastic angle and deflection of the slug is more likely to happen.

Therefore, Michael was trying to create the most awkward shooting angles possible by making Nate's vehicle slow down and then speed up unevenly.

_Pah-chow! Pah-chow!_

__Pah-chow! Pah-chow!__

There was not a clean hit to be made as the bullets skimmed the window of their vehicle while Nate continued to vary the speed of his vehicle. Only one shot managed to crack the side window slightly.

_Pah-shoo_. _Pah-shoo_.

Both cars were just about to reach the most dangerous part of the curve on the highway. As the cars continued climbing jointly, Nate's car was slightly ahead of the truck.

"Slow down, here, Nate." Michael said, as he looked ahead. When Nate's speed had slowed down, Michael knew it was time.

_Pah-shoo!_

"_**Now, Nate, r**_**am the car, **_**now!**_" Michael shouted above the gusty roar.

Nate immediately swerved into the red truck, **_SLAM! _**hitting the truck's back panel, forcing Fred to work at straightening his truck.

At the same time, Michael lowered his window, bringing a swirl of air currents blasting throughout the interior of their vehicle. With accuracy, he tossed the separated console bin out his window at the driver of the opposing car.

Pfffttt!

It whacked the back of Fred's head, distracting him further. He instinctively looked over his shoulder, stunned, causing him to lose sight of the road ahead.

His truck was no longer following the curve of the road.

By the time Fred turned back around, it was too late for him. Dead Man's Curve seemed to materialize out of nowhere. He could not turn with the curve, so he slammed on the brakes.

ERRRRR...SKREEEEEE!

The pickup skidded, as Fred lost control. The high-speed, in addition to the unstable momentum of his pickup, caused it to crash into the guardrail. It immediately flipped up and over the steel rail, tumbling down the embankment.

Nate had backtracked his car to view the damage. The three watched as the car disappeared from sight. They then heard several rocky bumps, a rumble of noise and then silence.

The three car occupants were now staring at a view of the broken guardrail and beyond that, the clear blue skies of Miami.

"Wow! Did you see that?" yelled Nate, breaking the silence, "Mission accomplished, big time!"

"That was incredible driving!" commented an awed Elizabeth, her eyes large and round.

Nate turned the vehicle back around and they drove on. As the car continued on its way, Michael rolled up his window. The air was peacefully stagnant once more. He took out his cell phone to dial 911. That was all they could do for Fred now, RIP.

"It's almost noon." Michael had completed the call and was already moving forward, "We need to get to the zoo to intercept the kidnapper's call on time."

.

.

_Again, the car chase was written for fun not realism, because as Sam might say, "It could never happen that way, sister!" tee hee.)_

**_Please review._**


	6. Chapter 6

The kidnapper calls

Chapter 6

The three drove on to the zoo. They were playing it close, with only 15 minutes to spare. Although Michael was relieved at the end of that car chase, Elizabeth and Nate seemed almost ecstatic with their adventure.

"Oh, Nate! You did great!" She applauded from the passenger side as Nate drove on.

_Nate?_ Michael thought, she's giving _Nate_ all the credit?

"Whoo, Whooo! That _was_ great, wasn't it?" answered Nate excitedly, "Now, _that's _how to beat the bad guys! With speed and smarts!"

"...and don't forget all your special spy training, too!" Elizabeth added.

"_Special_ training?" Michael inquired, half in earnest, "Not the regular run-of-the-mill spy training? I'd like to hear more about this _special training_. Care to elaborate, Nate?"

Nate seemed reluctant to answer.

"Oh, Bro…it's nothing really..."

"Don't be so modest, Nate!" Elizabeth said, "You said you were _appointed_ to go through this special training!"

"Wow, Nate," stated Michael sardonically, "Color me impressed. So, go on and explain."

"No, really, Bro..."

"Well, _I'll_ tell you, if he won't!" Elizabeth said, "he said he got additional spy training in... let's see…Covert Operations, Navy SEALs maneuvers, and I think he said, weapons and demolitions mastery…_very_ impressive, wouldn't you say?"

Michael almost choked.

"_Uh, are we talking about you, Nate, or three entirely separate people_?"

Elizabeth had a pleasant laugh.

"Oh, that's funny, Mike! It does seem a bit much for one person, doesn't it? But here is the proof in front of you! And with him as a spy boss, you must have learned a lot from him!"

"Indeed, "maintained Michael, "He's very stealth-like. It's like _he isn't even there_ when I go out on missions."

Elizabeth beamed admirably at Nate.

"And Mike, you were a great help today, too!" pointed out Elizabeth, "Nate has told me exciting stories about how you've aided him with his spy work...especially in foreign countries! "

"Well, when it comes to Nate and spy work, he is definitely in foreign territory, "agreed Michael.

"How thrilling!" exclaimed Elizabeth as Nate cleared his throat.

Miami Metro Zoo was up ahead. It housed more than 700 wild animals in a cageless, subtropical environment. Nate parked and they proceeded towards the entrance.

Off to one side, near the ticket booths, was a small patch of manicured greenery. There were two picnic tables with attached benches situated on the green plot. Michael, Nate and Elizabeth sat on the picnic table closest to the ticket booth.

They had made it there with four minutes to spare.

Nate reached underneath and felt around. He retrieved a disposable cell phone. Nate merely stared at the silenced phone. Waiting. He kept to himself, as one of his legs started shaking nervously.

Obviously, his adrenaline high had flat-lined.

"Nate, are you really alright?" Michael looked concerned at his younger brother.

Nate let out a deep breath.

"I know I'm acting erratically but I'm scared... Ruthie is my everything." he sounded distressed, "I don't know what I would do without her. _Shoot_, Bro...oh, sorry, maybe I shouldn't say the word "shoot" to someone like you...anyway, she is such a great mom to Charlie...and I love her."

Nate's fingers tightened around the cell phone impatiently. Strange to see Nate so subdued. Michael looked into Nate's dismal, downcast look and felt his desperation.

"Nate, it's going to be alright."

Nate looked up at Michael, hopeful.

"I want to believe that, Bro."

Michael patted Nate reassuringly on the shoulder.

"So... do you know what you will say when the kidnapper calls?" Michael asked.

"No," said Nate, "Any suggestions?"

"Let him know you will do as he instructs, but first, you need to hear Ruthie's voice."

"Okay, sure," agreed Nate, "he just better give me back my Ruthie!"

_"He?" _

"Sure, '_he_'! The person had a deep voice," Nate said, "_Why..._ you don't think I can recognize a male voice?"

"Was the voice _really_ deep? Almost robotic?" Michael inquired more.

"What do you mean?" Nate asked.

"Meaning it could be electronic altering," Michael concluded, "if that's true, then the caller would not be necessarily male."

"Uh, yeah, thought of that.." said Nate, attempting to cover up, "but I'm sure it was a male…by, um, just from the way he _worded_ the demands."

"Wow!" awed Elizabeth, "Spies and their sixth sense!"

_R-ring!_

The throw-away cell phone rang in Nate's hand. It's ringing was loud and insistent.

Nate looked at Michael before shakily answering it. Michael reached over and pushed the button for speaker phone. Michael mouthed, "Stay calm" and then indicated for Nate to speak.

"H-hello?"

"_Hey, Jerk. Who's the babe and the other dude with you on the bench?"_

The voice was very deep, very malicious sounding and definitely machine-altered.

Michael looked around the zoo entrance. Nothing looked amiss, but they were definitely being watched. Then his eye caught a glint of something.

"Give me back Ruthie!" Nate blurted out, "You don't know who you're dealing with!"

Michael looked over at Nate. Whatever happened to staying calm?

"_Nate_," advised Michael in a whisper, "don't antagonize!_"_

_"Who the hell do you think you are, Jerk? I could just send your wife back in little pieces!"_

Nate nervously cleared his throat.

Michael nudged him, whispering the key words _I'm listening_ and _want to_ _hear Ruthie._

Nate spoke the words as Michael instructed. There was a short, static-y sound before Nate heard Ruth's anxious voice.

"_Nate!_"

"_Ruthie!_" yelled Nate back.

It sounded as if the phone was rudely yanked away from her, as her cries for help were now in the background.

"**Ruth-ie!"** Nate yelled louder, but to no avail. The kidnapper was talking. Nate started to panic. He turned to Michael.

But Michael was gone.

xxx

Up above on the roof of the zoo ticket booth, a man with a buzz cut was scanning the entrance of the zoo area with his binoculars. There wasn't a big crowd today at the zoo, so it was easy for him to spot Nate. The buzz cut man had big arms but he also had a protruding middle and flabby chest. In back of him stood a second guy holding a walkie-talkie in his hand. This guy was in better shape and taller, with a thick mustache.

"Hey! Troy!" observed Buzz-cut, "Check out the hot babe with Westen!"

"Let me see!" insisted Mustache, grabbing the binoculars and looking through them, "Hot dog! I'd sure love to show _her_ a good time!"

A voice spoke out from behind them.

"Will _I_ do?"

Michael had quickly and quietly climbed up to where they were situated.

No one moved.

From their faces, the two men had recognized Michael.

"_Hey_!" said Mustache, pointing accusingly at Michael, "You were just down there a second ago! How did you get up _here_ so fast?

Buzz-cut shot an aggravated look at his partner, who suddenly realized his mistake.

"Er..I mean, I've never seen this guy before... uh...Who _is_ this guy?"

Michael nodded, "Nice recovery. So smooth."

"What do you want, mister?" asked Buzz-cut, who seemed the smarter of the two.

"Why are you monitoring us from up here?" Michael asked.

"We're not doing anything of the sort, so jerk off."

They started to walk away.

As Mustache walked past him, Michael grabbed Mustache's arm and twisted it in a direction it was not supposed to go. Mustache dropped to his knee.

"Tell you what," Michael demanded, as Mustache struggled, "You tell me who you're working for and I promise not to tell your boss."

"Tell _you_ what," responded Buzz-cut as he pulled out a gun, "You let us walk out of here and I will let you live." His eyes looked dark and hard.

A spy knows to always carry a gun with him. Being without a gun is like being without an appendage.

_Ex-_spies seem to forget that fundamental rule often, however.

With the gun pointed at him, Michael had no choice but to release Mustache.

"Take my advice," Buzz-cut was still aiming his gun at Michael," You can't win against us. I've heard you're good at what you do. Very good. But my boss has us and many others. Men with no scruples."

"_Yeah_!" provoked Mustache, as he rubbed his arm, "We can just shoot Nate in the head without a thought in the world! Did you get that? We- got- no- scruples- and- we- got- no- thoughts!"

Buzz-cut gave Mustache a "you're hopeless" look.

Michael showed no reaction but inside he trembled. There were many of them. They were ruthless. And they knew Nate and _either_ didn't know Elizabeth or they had orders not to harm her.

A terrible thought entered Michael's mind. _Could Elizabeth be involved in this?_

xxx

By the time Michael had joined Nate again, the call had ended.

Nate looked up dejectedly at Michael, "...and where were you when I needed you, Bro?"

"Getting more info than I could have from listening to a call...So what did the kidnapper say?"

"That we better give him what he wanted if we wanted to ever see Ruthie again."

"How much money?" asked Michael.

"I don't know, he didn't say."

Michael was confused. Still no ransom demand? And why pick Ruth, a struggling young mother, as the target? Who were these professionals? How was Elizabeth involved, if at all? So many things did not add up.

"Gawd, My poor Ruthie!" yelled out a frustrated Nate as he buried his head in his hands.

"Oh, Nate! _Nate_!" Elizabeth's heart went out to him. as she wrapped her arms around him.

Michael watched the interplay. His mind was going in all directions.

"You both know more than you are letting on." Michael announced.

It came out of nowhere. Elizabeth turned sharply at Michael.

"_What_?'' shocked Elizabeth. Nate also looked up at Michael, stunned.

"Bro, we told you everything! I just want Ruthie back!"

Both of them looked guilty. Over what, he couldn't say. He just knew they were not telling him everything.

Nate saw the way Michael was suspiciously looking at him and Lizzie. Especially since they had just been in an comforting embrace.

"H-ey, Bro, I just want to make it clear that I LOVE Ruthie!" declared Nate, "She's the only one for me!"

Elizabeth's light coffee-colored eyes watched him closely.

"Mike, you're looking at us suspiciously, and you're wrong. _Wrong_!" said Elizabeth, her voice shaking a bit, "Nate only has eyes for Ruthie!"

Michael watched Elizabeth's reaction as he spoke.

"Sometimes things happen..."

"No, _no,_" Elizabeth leaned towards him. Her voice was soft but sure as she added, "...a_nd_ i_t's not Nate, I want._"

There was no mistaking her message. Michael felt flushed as warmth flowed throughout his body. Her nearness was dangerous territory.

Strangely, he had a strong desire to see Fi right now.

Perhaps he was overwhelmed by the events of the day. His body was exhausted, and his mind was overloaded. He was the first to admit to admit that he could not do all of this on his own.

He needed help.

"It's time to get our team involved," declared Michael.

.

**_. _**

**_Please review._**


	7. Chapter 7

Visiting Fi

Chapter 7

**The Next Day**

Michael was in a dilemma.

As he walked up to Fi's house to ask for her help with the kidnapping case, a myriad of thoughts drifted in and out of his mind.

He had so many unanswered questions, yet above it all, he anxiously looked forward to seeing Fiona.

He walked up to her door, still in deep thought. This kidnapping case was getting complicated. Nate…Ruth…professional kidnappers...and, then there was Elizabeth. How was he ever going to explain Elizabeth to Fi? Not that she meant anything _personally_ to him. Especially since his relationship with Fi was more solid than ever.

But despite Michael's opinion that he and Fi were good, he didn't know if he could explain away Elizabeth. Maybe he should not mention Elizabeth to Fi at all. Just keep Fi away from his loft. But if Fi ever found out…

With that last thought, he hesitantly knocked on the door of Fi's place.

She opened the door.

Fiona.

Michael took a deep breath and let it out in a controlled exhale. He had forgotten how truly beautiful she was. He found himself gawking at her, riveted by the strength, yet delicacy of her face.

Somehow she brought out the sentimentality in him, for he truly missed everything about her. The sight of her made his heart jump. Only with Fi did he feel alive and whole. He missed their provocative conversations, their quick glances that contained sardonic amusement in addition to their knee-weakening yearnings.

He took in the lushness of her mouth, the singular loveliness of her expression, and the luminous green blue of her eyes. His mouth curved into a happy smile.

"Fi," he said, with a pleased smile in his voice.

"Michael," she acknowledged coolly, before letting him in.

Michael looked puzzled at her callous reception as he stepped in. Once inside, he noticed the way she seemed to back away, keeping the distance between them. She looked beautiful yet wary, her small chin set defiantly.

_What kind of greeting is this_? Michel wondered to himself. He had expected that they would have been in each other's arms by now. He wanted to feel her once again quivering in his arms. He felt a responsive ache just imagining it in his mind.

They were bound in an uncomfortable silence until Michael cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Uh…I need your help with a job, Fi…seems that Nate's wife may have been kidnapped."

Michael was expecting a look of surprise or shock or incredulity from Fi. At least one raised eyebrow. Instead, she had a neutral expression, which puzzled him.

Fiona tilted her head, looking detached, "Oh? So you're here to ask me for a job, is that it_?_"

Michael felt he was existing in another parallel universe, what with the strange case and now the unusual behavior of Fi.

"Uh, of course not, Fi. That's not the _main_ reason I'm here. It's because I wanted to see you. You're all I've thought about lately. Uh, I'm so glad I'm here...with you. I've missed you immensely."

Shovel, shovel. O-_kay,_ piling it on a little high now, Michael thought, as he waited for her reaction.

She looked at him irritably. Something did not feel right between the two of them.

Uh…Are you okay, Fi? Did something happen?...Did you... recently talk to Sam?" Michael felt dread slowly pervading throughout his mind.

She stared straight at him. "No, Michael, I haven't spoken to Sam in two days. Why? Is there something he should have told me? "

"No." The shorter the answer, the less room for careless mistakes, Michael thought.

"Then go ahead with details of the case, " Fiona voice sounded noncommittal, although her whole demeanor seemed almost defiant.

She remained standing, as if she didn't expect him to stay long.

Michael told Fiona about Nate, his missing wife and _Nate's _female friend visiting from Vegas. He also explained about the unusual kidnapping call, ending by saying it was a most unusual kidnapping case.

"I see, " Fi listened emotionless to the entire story.

He watched as she had casually walked to the other side of the room, near her shelves of books.

As she faced him again, Michael caught a glimpse of a snow globe in her hand. Before he had time to think, the snow globe came flying across the room with full force towards his head.

_Pfllloooo!_

Michael, looking wide-eyed at the oncoming object, quickly ducked.

_CLUNK!_

The snow globe smacked against the wall before it dropped quickly to the floor.

_And it didn't break._

They both stared at the fallen snow globe, now rolling all around the floor, still in one piece.

"Dammit, Fi," said Michael amazed, "What is your snow globe made out of? _kryptonite_?"

He did not get an answer, for out of the corner of his eye, he saw another one come hurtling towards him. He barely had enough time to duck again, this time the globe missing his head by mere millimeters.

_Pfllloooo!_

_CLUNK!_

He looked behind him before whipping back around.

"_What the hell,_ _Fi_?"

"Liar! _**LIAR**_**!**" she yelled, "That female was a friend of _yours_ from the past! _Why did you hide that fact from me?_ Was she _that_ special to you?"

Michael walked over to her, mentally kicking himself that he had tried to bend the truth.

"Okay, you're right, Fi, just calm down and let me explain..."

"No! I don't need an explanation from you, Michael!" Fi stated loudly, "and I will NOT calm down! I already know about her!"

Michael reached out to touch her arm, before she quickly jerked it away. Her eyes flashed with anger.

But despite her fury, Fiona had a reaction to his touch. For the split second that Michael touched her, she was suddenly filled with the thrill of being near him again. She wanted to snuggle in his arms once more. And she hated that she couldn't control these feelings.

Michael was unaware of Fi's wistful thoughts. He just knew he needed to appease Fi and kill Sam.

"So you _did_ talk to Sam!" he blurted out.

His last statement allowed Fi enough time to wipe any remaining pleasant thoughts she had of Michael from her mind. At the sound of Michael basically confessing, she spoke with controlled resentment in her voice.

"_No, Michael._..I already told you. I didn't talk to Sam and unlike you, I tell the truth." she insisted through gritted teeth, "If you must know, I came looking for you later at Carlitos today and had a long talk with Yolanda, the waitress. And don't try to change the subject, you cheating _**LI-AR**_!"

She bellowed the last word.

Earlier, she had been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, wanting him to tell her about this woman, but instead he twisted the story to make it sound as if this woman was with Nate!

Michael tried to reason with her again.

"I-I…truthfully, Fi, I-I didn't even know her when I saw her. That's how unimportant she had been in my past."

The comment sparked even more anger in Fi.

"Don't try and deny your attraction to her, Michael! Yolanda _saw_ the kind of look you gave that woman and then you left with her in _her car_! And after spending some private time with her, what did you do next? You came _here_ to ask me to do a JOB! _A JOB_! How dare you, Michael, _how dare you_!_"_

Damn, regretted Michael.

"Fi, I didn't tell you the whole truth because I _knew_ you would react this way! But honestly, you know how men are. We're shallow. We look at beautiful women. I'm sure that sometimes men look at you, too! Noooo! Wait! I didn't mean _sometimes._.."

_Get the hell out of my place, Michael!_" she attempted to hide her hurt feelings with anger as she turned in the direction of her bookshelf, her intention being to retrieve another snow globe.

"_Oh, no you don't, Fi!_" Michael reached out and grabbed her arm, this time holding on tight.

Michael had tried to be patient, but now annoyance surfaced on his face, too, over the unfairness of the situation. Fi was jumping to all kinds of conclusions. He had not been given a chance to explain.

Is this how their relationship would be like in the future? Full of mistrust and accusations?

_"Let go of me! You need to leave!_" Fi insisted again as she struggled to get loose from his grasp.

"I'm not ready to leave yet, Fi," he said, his soft words contradicted the frustration seething underneath.

His unusual tone made her glance upward at him. His closeness was unsettling. She saw the look in his eyes, a sparkle of desire. A surge of anxiety drove her heart to beat faster. He was staring at her lips, bringing a prickling warmth to her skin. She knew he was trying to fluster her.

Well, it would not work with her!

He stepped even closer to her. She was close enough to inhale the sensual smell of his skin. It was salty perspiration mingled with tropical bay rum, a mix unique only to him.

Trying to ignore her own stirring attraction to him, she regarded him with cold dignity.

"I think we are done here," she said, although she was unable to look straight at him.

"No, Fi, we are not done, by any means." His soft voice was like a sensual whisper.

She stiffened as he bent over her. She tried not to react as suddenly her lips were captured in a long, slow kiss. His tongue went gently probing as his hands were stroking any place on her he could touch. At first her entire body rebelled as she twisted in his arms.

But skillfully he teased and caressed her, so that she couldn't help responding. Her mind reeled with the frustration of the situation, yet finding pleasure in the embrace.

They strained to be closer, her hands clinging to his broad back, her body caught between his hard thighs. The sweeping excitement intensified as she moaned and sagged against him until they were molded as one.

In the middle of the sensual entanglement, he suddenly released her with a jerk.

She was totally caught off guard by the abrupt end of the kiss. Her stunned expression changed to one of scorn. Then trying to look unaffected, she looked away as she straightened her clothes and hair.

Michael also felt the effect of the embrace. He took a deep breath as his lungs worked hard for air. He observed her swollen lips and flushed face, but pretended not to notice. His eyes looked indignantly at her.

"_And _**_that_**_, Fi, is what you are missing, because of your own stubbornness."_

Then Michael made a dramatic exit by turning around, opening the door and slamming it as he departed.

Fi had too much pride to run after him. Perhaps it was for the better, she tried to convince herself. She impassively flipped her hair over her shoulder.

After all, she certainly had a life outside of Michael Westen!

But as she stared at the closed door, she realized it wasn't _much_ of a life without him.

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_Please review_

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	8. Chapter 8

Sam and Nate's little adventure

Chapter 8

**That afternoon**

Sam Axe did not mind doing surveillance. That is to say, he didn't mind the kind of surveillance where you sit in the car and observed.

But Michael wanted Sam to do a different kind of surveillance. The kind where you had to shadow someone on foot. That included sneaking around, hiding, peeking and sometimes picture-taking. You have to stay alert and move at a moment's notice because your target is also moving. In other words, you are in _motion_. To top it off, that kind of surveillance left you with no time for snacks and drinks. Sam _hated_ that kind of surveillance.

And then there was the _subject_ of the surveillance. For some reason, Michael wanted Sam to follow Nate around. What little secret could _Nate_ ever hold? Sam wondered.

So far, Sam had followed Nate to the grocery store, the post office and the pharmacy. If Michael wanted to know where Nate went during the day, why didn't he just ask, "Hey, Nate, where are you headed?" Sheesh, what a waste of time!

Sam checked his watch. Two o'clock. Snacktime, and he was nowhere near to getting something to eat.

No time to plan his menu now, as Nate was on the move again.

Nate had entered a bank. Damn. He was hoping Nate would drop by an eating establishment. Then Sam could casually bump into him and perhaps even join him. That would make it the closest tracking job in surveillance history.

Sam watched from the bushes, hoping his stomach would not grumble. Worst of all, his throat felt parched. Please let this be the last stop. In Sam's way of thinking, if Nate ran one more errand, he could probably get a job as a UPS delivery guy.

Just then the bank door opened and Nate walked out of the bank. He was holding a bulky manila envelope. Hmmm...What could be in that yellow envelope? Sam was put on alert.

As Nate continued down the sidewalk, Sam covertly observed a black vehicle slowly make its way down the street. From Sam's standpoint, it appeared to be tailing Nate. Sam had been in the bushes so long, he had named one of the bushes "Tommy."

The distance between he and Nate was widening, so Sam had to be on the move again. _Great. _

Now safely concealed behind a building, Sam pulled out his binoculars. The ominous car, which had been driving beside Nate, suddenly drove past him. Hmmm...maybe Sam had judged it wrong and the vehicle wasn't following Nate after all.

Still, Sam kept a watch on the vehicle with his binoculars, just in case. He observed that instead of driving through or turning the corner, the dark car had parked at the end of the corner.

Two suspicious-looking men got out of the vehicle. Uh-oh. Zooming in, Sam could see one had a ponytail, which made him look like a hip, high school art teacher that liked to hit the bong every now and then. The other was built solid, with what looked to be a 'knife' tattoo of some sort on his neck.

They were headed towards Nate, carrying items that could do some serious damage to a person's body. Nate continued on, oblivious to the imminent danger.

_And_ Nate was headed straight for the two goon-heads.

"_Oh crap!_ "Sam thought to himself, as he pulled the binoculars down from his face. Those two guys spelled trouble with a capital "T". Sam came out from behind the building and strode quickly towards Nate.

With his quickened pace, he reached Nate in no time.

"Sam! Hey, Sam!" Nate hadn't expected to see Sam here as he greeted Sam cheerfully, "What a pleasant-" He looked aghast when Sam grabbed him and turned him the other way, back towards the row of apartments, back towards the bank. Sam was prodding Nate at a fast pace.

"H-hey, what's going on, Sam?" Nate asked, totally unaware.

"Two thugs are following you, and I think they want to do more than that," Sam quickly explained, as he looked back.

The two goons were walking even faster and closing the distance.

"Those two guys _do_ look mean," Nate said as he also looked back, "So, Sam, do you, like, have a plan on how to lose them? Are you going to shoot your way out, or better yet, blow them up?" At this point, Nate wasn't too worried, in that Michael always had a plan to escape. He figured Sam would be the same way.

"Nate," asked Sam sounding exasperated,as he moved quickly, "Does it look like I am carrying a bazooka or a bomb on me?"

"Well...hey, how am I suppose to know how this outsmart-the-bad-guy thing works?"

"Well, before you attack, Nate; you gotta size up the situation," Sam was talking fast, "Point one: They're built solid. So that means they're strong. My physique is 'jello- solid' at best and your physique is 'scrawny-solid' at worst. Advantage, them. "

Hey, I work out!" said Nate, as he puffed out his chest while still walking fast.

"_That's_ the point you take away from my spiel?"

"Sorry, Sam, Go on."

"And then..." Sam continued, "Point two: They're willing to attack us on the street. Meaning they're reckless. Advantage them, again. Point three: Only one of us knows how to fight. The other one would lose even if he had a bazooka. Triple advantage them again. So it's game, set, match _them!_ I think, therefore, we better skip plans A and B and go straight to Plan R."

They picked up their speed to a faster stride.

"Oh... okay, sure, Sam. What is plan R?"

Sam didn't mince words.

"_Run!_"

Sam took off before a stunned Nate could react. Nate could do nothing but start running after Sam. The two bad guys immediately picked up their pace, too .

Not surprisingly, Nate was faster than Sam and was able to catch up with him and even past him. To Sam, it was as if he was standing still as Nate gained more speed and Sam ended up watching the back of him.

_Damn! When was Nate a former Olympic speed runner? _Sam started breathing harder. He knew he could never catch up with Nate. The kid is fast.

As they ran down a block of apartments, Nate was clearly ahead as he constantly had to look over his shoulder. Sam was running hard, huffing and puffing away.

"Faster, Sam!" Nate yelled, as he looked back.

_Really?_ Nate had to tell him that? Sam thought, why not remind him to breathe also?

Sam felt his lungs were exploding as he tried to suck in more air. His legs felt as if someone had put lead in his shoes.

Sam knew he was running out of gas. As Nate turned around, he came to that same conclusion. He slowed down so Sam could catch up.

Nate looked to be going in slow-motion as he moved side-by-side with Sam. Catching his breath, Sam felt as if he was a hamster running on one of those exercise wheels- his legs were moving forward, but he was getting nowhere fast.

Air, I need air. Okay, o_kay,_ Sam vowed to himself. After today, he will cut down on his drinking. Yeah, for real, definitely. From now on, there will be no more orange juice in the morning.

"Sam!" Nate said, looking as if he wasn't even breaking a sweat as he ran, "Which way should we go?"

Sam sounded like he had asthma, as his lungs could not take in enough air.

"You...being a limo driver in this...(heave) area," Sam breathed heavily, "you should know…your way around…here (huff), right?"

"I know a secret way!" Nate announced confidently, as he instantly pictured himself the hero of this predicament.

Of all days not to be carrying a weapon, regretted Sam. He always thought carrying a gun was cumbersome.

Fi, on the other hand, carried two guns and sometimes a knife when she was on a case. Third-world countries should be as well armed as her.

An idea came to Sam at the thought of Fi. As they continued running, Sam got out his cell phone. He speed dialed Fi's number.

"Hello?" Fi picked up immediately.

"_Fi!_"(puff, puff). Sam was running and yelling into the phone at the same time, "**_Fi!_**"

Fi made a sound like a disappointed sigh.

"Sam... Sam, I know it's you! _Stop that heavy breathing_!" Fi insisted, "I'm not in the mood for a crank call, you hear me? You're obscene enough."

"Fi! This is serious! Listen, didn't…you have to wrangle a guy…(huff)with a knife tattoo…on his neck?"

"A neck tattoo? You mean Sid Bailey?" she asked. She had heard he had escaped custody. It didn't surprise her that he had taken a new "job".

"Yeah..(gasp)...him..." said Sam, breathing hard.

"Sam, last I heard, he's in the wind. He made a run for it."

"Sister, you don't know (puff) the half of it!"

Sam was interrupted by Nate's yelling.

"Sam! Over here! over here!" Nate was gesturing with his hand to run in a different direction.

"Sam! What's going on? Don't mess with Bailey! He's bad news!" Fi's voice went in and out.

"_Really_, Fi? ... 'Bad news' ...is putting it mildly. If he were a newspaper, he's be (puff) the _obituary section_..."

Sam had a plan and told Fi his plans before hanging up and trying to catch up with Nate. He hoped they were near Nate's secret passageway.

Sam didn't look over his shoulder, but he could hear running footsteps behind him. Just a little more, he thought, giving his all to accelerate.

Sam's chest heaved rapidly with heavy panting. Hee-hee-heave. Where'd all the air go? It felt as if they were running the marathon on the moon.

Nate led him to a long pathway between two apartment complexes. Offhandedly Nate started to explain how he knew of this hidden place...

_God Almighty_, thought Sam, Nate is giving a tea party while he hyperventilates to death.

"...so," continued Nate, looking back at Sam every now and then, as he ran, "she was a nice, elderly lady that liked me as her limo driver and..."

"_Nate!_" Sam gasped, as his legs were ready to give out, "Right_ now_, I do not need...to hear... (puff!) ... the unedited version of _Driving_ _Miss Daisy!_

They ran a few yards and then Nate made a sharp turn, with Sam following close behind.

At last they stopped and looked all around. They ended up in a secluded alleyway, all right, but unfortunately, Nate had led them to an area with three blocked sides. They were surrounded by a wall of concrete and two structured walls.

"_Nate_!" Sam bellowed, when he realized this wasn't an escape route, "What the hell were you thinking? We're trapped!"

"Oops!" was all Nate could say as he looked around the enclosed space, "I think I got mixed up with the buildings. These apartment complexes all look alike!"

Sam and Nate started to backtrack, but found themselves retreating.

The two bad guys slid into the opened space, as they blocked the entrance to the alleyway. Both of them wore malicious smiles as they closed in with their weapons.

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**_Please review._**


	9. Chapter 9

Sam and Nate are boxed in.

Chapter 9

Sam and Nate had run into a dead end alley. Blocking the opened end of the area was Sid Bailey and another thug named Ponytail. Both goons held weapons in his hands.

Nate handed Sam the manila envelope he had taken from the bank and whispered, "Sam! We have to protect this envelope! It may lead us to Ruthie!"

Sam scowled as he grabbed the envelope and hid it in his waistband behind him. "Protect the _envelope_? " Sam corrected him, "I think it's my _life_ that needs protection at this moment!"

Sam and Nate were weaponless. And with Nate untrained in combat, Sam knew they were out-manned.

Ponytail held a long stick in his hand; Bailey possessed a long, thick metal chain.

"Hey!" yelled Nate bravely, from one end of the alleyway, "Stop following us! Get out of here!"

From the other end, Bailey playfully jabbed Ponytail. "Didja hear what the punk said? Ooo, we're- really- scared! Like we're going to stop following you because you say so!"

They started moving forward.

"Actually, the kid makes a point," chimed in Sam to support Nate, "you _are_ following us…so why _is_ that? Could it be that one of you is attracted to one of us? Am I right? Do you find either me or him appealing?"

Sam pointed questionably at he and Nate. There was momentary confusion as the two bad guys stopped to look at each other.

"_What?_" asked Bailey, not quite able to register the remark.

Sam looked directly at Bailey, assuming he was the boss of these two numskulls.

"Hey, I can understand how you feel, " mentioned Sam, as he tried to buy some time, "You're not the first person to tell me that my hair looked like _it had been parted by the gods_. It's _me_ you favor, right?"

"What the hell are you saying? _You talking to me?_" asked Bailey.

"Wow, that's a really bad DeNiro you're doing," Sam said.

"Hey, Bailey," commented Ponytail, who was actually enjoying the little show, "He's playing with you!"

But Bailey didn't like what Sam was implying.

"Yeah? You think you're funny, old man?" Bailey growled at Sam, " Do you know who you are f*cking with? Are you really going to f*ck with me? Is that it? You've decided to f*ck with _me_?"

Sam looked back at him with a look of disdain, "Slightly repetitive. Can we move on, please?"

Bailey turned to his partner as he dangerously displayed his thick steel chain to Sam and Nate, "Time we kick their asses!"

He then pointed his huge index finger at Sam, "And y_ou_ are going down _big time_, Jerk-Ass!"

Sam guffawed.

"Don't you know that it's impolite to point?" Sam asked, "and don't _even_ get me started with the name calling."

The two goons crowded in.

Perhaps hoping to intimidate them, Nate stood apart and then got into what he perceived was a karate position, courageously facing the thugs as he let out an unhuman sounding shriek.

The goons sneered.

"Come on, you guys!" Nate challenged them as he moved his arms around in faux karate positions, "Both of you will _rue_ the day you've messed with us!"

_Crap_, thought Sam. With cheesy threats like that, Nate sounded like one of the Power Rangers.

Ponytail walked up to Nate, his belittling expression showing he was not intimidated. Nate knew he had to do something, so when Ponytail was close enough, Nate attempted a high kick, like he had seen in the movies. His foot was aimed straight for the Ponytail's middle. Ponytail snickered as he caught hold of Nate's foot and gave it a hard twist.

Nate gave a yelp as he hopped on one leg, lost his balance and fell. Cowering from the ground, Nate felt the end of a stick as it whacked him in his back. Ponytail laughed heartily as Nate yelled out in pain. Sam had moved forward but Bailey had him in a strong chokehold.

Ponytail was having too much fun with Nate.

"Go ahead, Kid," he dared, as Nate moaned and painfully rubbed his back. "Hit me in the gut. Go ahead and give it your best shot."

It took Nate a while to get up and once he did, he was slightly unbalanced.

"Come on, there! _Ease up on him!_" Sam's voice was slightly muffled by Bailey's arm, "Pick on someone who knows how to fight!"

Ponytail confidently walked over to the smaller-built Sam. "_Why_? You gonna offer _you,_ old man?"

Bailey loosened his grip around Sam's neck so he could respond. Sam looked directly at Ponytail, unafraid.

"Yeah, English major, I am."

Ponytail confidently nodded to his partner as he gave an arm gesture of clear-the-area-for-me.

"I'm gonna give you one chance, just one," Ponytail told Sam, as he poked Sam in the stomach with his index finger, "then I am going to let my magic stick work you over _real good. _You won't be able to even _breathe_ by yourself when I get through with you."

Sam was given one shot. He better make it good. Ponytail stood up tall and tightened his abdomen, waiting.

Ponytail watched for Sam's fist, as he readjusted his stick, ready to pound Sam afterwards.

Sam's hit came out of nowhere. Or rather his_ knee_ came out of nowhere and snapped deep into Ponytail's groin. Sam followed through effectively, driving the man's testicles all the way to his stomach.

It was over in a split second.

Ponytail did not make a sound. His mouth dropped opened and his face turned a strange shade of purple. His legs looked like rubber as he folded like a cheap suit and dropped to the ground.

Sam unsympathetically watched the crumpled form, now moaning on the ground.

"Aw shucks, you said for me to aim for the _gut,_ didn't you?" asked Sam, "I apologize, my bad."

"_Sam! Look out_!" Nate suddenly yelled to Sam, but it was too late.

Sam felt a hard metal whip on the back of his head. Pain erupted as he toppled over like a bowling pin from being whacked with the steel chain.

"Sam! Sam!" yelled Nate, hopelessly trying to reach for him. But it was impossible. After attacking Sam, Bailey had immediately turned and placed the chain around Nate's neck, tightening it. Nate grabbed on the chain around his neck with both hands, trying to loosen the hold of the weapon.

As Nate made gurgling sounds, Ponytail was slowly getting up from the ground.

Still on the ground, Sam was also working to recover, holding onto his throbbing head. Turning his head, he watched helplessly as Nate gagged and struggled. To his other side Sam also saw Ponytail heading straight for him. With a splitting headache and no weapon, he knew he would be no match for the bigger guy. Sam slowly dragged himself further away from Bailey and Ponytail.

It was time for Plan F, or more accurately, Plan 'Fi'.

When he was at a safe distance, Sam stuck out his cell phone. He had pushed the "conference call" button. At first there was the sound of static. Sam put the volume on "high".

"Bailey?" Fi's voice could be heard loud and clear, now, coming from the speaker, "Bailey? Sid Bailey, you there?"

Bailey was still holding on to a gasping Nate, but he now stopped to listen. He knew that disturbing voice. It had been embedded deep into his memory banks, along with the pain of a broken bone. That voice haunted his nightmares.

"F*ck, it's her!" Bailey announced in dismay.

"Who? Who?" Ponytail asked, sounding like a confused owl.

"That damn crazy B*tch I was tellin' you about!"

"…Yes, it's me, your favorite fugitive recovery agent." Fi said, "And a hearty hello to you, too, Bailey! And how is our right tibia _today_?"

A cold chill went through Bailey's body as he subconsciously felt his permanently injured right leg.

"Hey!"Ponytail suggested, "Just smash the goddamn phone with your chain and let's get on with this! We've wasted too much time already!"

But Bailey stood firm, staring at the cell phone.

"Walk away now," Fi's voice was cold, "You know what I am capable of. I know ALL the major bones."

"What the sh*t she mean, Bailey?"

"He knows," Fi's voice sounded eerily calm, which made it even scarier, "and when he sees me, _this _time_,_ the agony will be tenfold because I won't stop. Think about it. Continuous. Guaranteed to last a lifetime."

Beads of sweat appeared on Bailey's forehead.

"I-I-I..." Baily sounded jittery.

"What's wrong, Bailey?" Ponytail looked at him with disgust, "You gonna let a _girl_ bully you?"

"Shut up!" Bailey said to his buddy, as he internally debated.

The threatening female voice continued.

"When I am through with you, your bones will be _rattling_ in your skin, and yet, there will not be a single external mark on you. I am _very_ good at what I do."

Bailey actually shuddered at the imagery.

"Leave now, Bailey...while you still have the limbs to walk away."

" Hey! You can't do nothin from where you at,'" interrupted Ponytail into the phone, "You ain't even here!"

"How true," Fi said, "so, I'll be_ right_ there..._tootle-loo _bones..."

"Wait!" Bailey shouted, "Wait! Look, we're just playing, right? No need for you to come here!"

"I'm getting in my car, now," threatened Fi. The men actually heard the car door slam. A car engine started.

"No, no! We're leaving, Lady...we're gone!" Bailey turned to his partner, "_Let's go, man, it ain't worth it, believe me_!"

"Bailey, come back!" insisted Ponytail, to no avail.

Sid Bailey had already began walking away. Ponytail turned and evaluated the current 2 against 1 odds.

Sam made a pantomime gesture of breaking a stick in half and then pointing to his right tibia as he nodded his head knowingly.

Ponytail looked disgustedly at the situation. "Wuss," he mumbled under his breath as he, too, turned around to leave.

"Yeah, _tootle-loo_, you two!" yelled Sam, as he watched their backs, "Your bones will thank you in the morning!"

To Sam's relief, the two bad guys were gone.

"Hey, Fi, thanks," said Sam to the phone, "What the hell did you do to that Bailey guy, anyway?"

"Nothing much, Sam. It's just that before I turned him over to the authorities, I just taught him a little leg anatomy, is all_._" explained Fi before she hung up.

Even Sam shivered. He next turned to Nate.

"Nate," Sam said, "Let's just go before those thugs change their minds."

"W-what just happened, Sam?" he asked, not really understanding what had just occurred.

"The voice of a hormonal female," Sam explained as he pulled out the yellow envelope from behind him and held it up for Nate to see, "Anyway, you've got some explaining to do."

"Ruthie went to the ATM on the day of her kidnapping," explained Nate, "and so I bribed the bank manager to give me a copy of video for that day."

Sam nodded, "Well, you did one thing right, at least. "

Nate perked up instantly. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. We'll view this before we see Michael," Sam decided, "and, Nate?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Next time, don't talk like a pink Power Ranger."


	10. Chapter 10

Michael has his memories (_with special guest appearance: his chest) _

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Chapter 10

It was late afternoon and sunlight filtered throughout Michael's loft from the high windows, giving the place a golden glow.

When Michael returned to the loft, he had a pounding headache. After a few words with Elizabeth, he decided to take a nap. There were too many ideas running through his mind. He hoped that with the additional rest, he would be able to think more clearly.

Sleep came quickly for him.

As he slept, Michael relived his visit with Fiona. But this time, no snow-globes would be involved.

_Fiona opened the door. _

_At his first sight of her, Michael was aware of a peculiar sensation in his chest, a deep throb of happiness. His gaze drank in the sight of her._

_Her hair trailed over her shoulders and down her body in gleaming auburn strands, the natural light from the room streaking tiny glints of gold and red in the dark lengths._

_"Michael," she smiled at him, "I'm glad to see you."_

_"Fiona," he responded softly._

_He walked in and after she shut the door, he reached out for her. His hands felt the warm flesh of her waist. The feel of her beneath her thin silk top was enough to make his mouth go dry. He tried to control the bursting excitement that filled him, for he had been without her for too long._

__Her hands reached for his shirt, tugging at buttons, pulling at fabric until his shirt hung free of his trousers. ____R_ecklessly Fi pushed his shirt open, exposing him from neck to navel, and she drew in her breath. She gazed at his chest as though it was a masterpiece of muscle and sinew. Possessively, her hands roamed over his chest before sliding her hands down to the hard, rippled surface of his stomach._

_He made a sound of pained pleasure as he caught her wrist and pulled her hands away. __He leaned in and kissed her with delicious roughness, the feel of her driving him wild. __The embrace ended too soon as Fi watched him with a caressing look._

_"Michael, are you staying this time?" _

_"Yes, Fi, I'm here to stay."_

_He lowered his head again and.._

"Mike." Her voice sounded so very different now. He felt a need to call Fi back, as the image of her seemed to be fading.

"_Fi._.."

It came out like a whisper on his lips. He could no longer feel Fi's touch on his body. Instead, his whole physical being felt heavy. He sensed a shaft of light warming his closed eyelids.

The illusion of Fi had completely dissolved.

Michael sat up, wide eyed and dazed. He was back in his own bed, up in his loft, his shirt securely buttoned. He looked around the high- ceiling room, taking note of the obvious items in the room such as the outdated fan and the suspended punching bag.

He turned his head as his eyes focused on the lone figure who was sitting in a chair next to him.

It was a beautiful female, but it was not Fiona.

Elizabeth was smiling at him. She had the type of smile that lit an entire room. The few moments she had spent with him thus far had been uneventful and polite. They had discussed neutral subjects, choosing their words carefully.

Elizabeth leaned forward in her chair once Michael had awakened.

"Mike," she said, smiling, now that he was awake, "that must have been some dream you were having."

Michael felt too lethargic from the nap to feel embarrassed. He wanted to sink back into the mist of sleep to be with Fi again. His dream somehow felt more real to him. Still sitting up, he shook his head hard in an effort to wake himself and ran his hand through his hair.

"What time is it?" he asked, thinking his voice sounded like a croak.

"It's four in the afternoon, " Elizabeth reminded him, "we were enjoying a nice talk over coffee and you said you were tired and needed to lie down. And before I realized it, you had fallen asleep!"

Michael scowled. That was so unlike him.

He looked towards the kitchen at the two coffee cups on the counter. His mind was working quickly. He had been sleeping for almost an hour. Why had he suddenly needed a nap? He remembered that the coffee had a slightly metallic taste to it. Now his throat felt parched and dry and there was a sluggishness to his awakened body. A disturbing thought entered his head.

Could Elizabeth have drugged his coffee?

He looked back at her as she watched him with huge, innocent eyes. Her warmth was almost palpable. For a moment he let himself bathe in her smiling face.

Elizabeth really did look fabulous this afternoon. She wore a snug green pullover that clung exactly as it should with white jeans. Her blonde hair was tied carelessly yet appealingly back in a ponytail, giving her a fresh look.

Then his gaze went over to the sink with the two coffee mugs placed beside it. He swung his legs off the bed and plodded over to the small pile of used dishes. His headache was slightly abating, but he still felt he was in a stupor as he tried to focus on what was in front of him.

One of the coffee cups held his interest. He picked it up and rolled it around to view it from all angles in the light. He couldn't be sure, because his sight was hazy, but was there some telltale white powder at the bottom of the mug? Using his pointed finger he tried to dig...

"Oh, that's right, Michael, " Elizabeth came from behind him and practically snatched the cup from his hand, "I had said I would wash the morning dishes, hadn't I?"

She proceeded to fill the entire sink with suds and the first item she dipped in the dish-washing bubbles was the questionable mug. Whatever evidence that remained was washed away. Michael watched her profile, but there was no giveaway to what she was thinking.

As she washed, she told Michael about how she had met Ruthie. They had shared everything during their college days- clothes, makeup, boyfriend stories. It was almost as if Ellizabeth was rambling, but she seemed as cool as a cucumber.

Out of nowhere, she switched subjects, as she rinsed another dish.

"What about you, Mike? Anyone... special in your life?"

She had stated it so casually, but Michael heard the slight catch in her voice, as if she had been thinking about it for a long time. Elizabeth had stopped washing and turned towards him for the answer.

His gaze moved over her with detached interest. She was just a drop of time in his past, a short memory. He really did not know her at all.

Previously, he felt he had been drawn to Elizabeth, not only because of her beauty, but because she was the opposite of Fi. There was a simplicity to Elizabeth. With Fi, it had always so complicated, _so very complicated_. But despite the intricacies of their relationship, being with Fi has been uniquely incredible. There was no one like her.

Fi. He felt terrible over how they had ended. He truly missed her.

Michael looked at the suspicious coffee mug now on the dish drying rack. Perhaps he may have been wrong with how he viewed Elizabeth. Once again, he wondered if she really was how she appeared to be.

"Michael?" Elizabeth interrupted his thoughts, "So is there? Anyone special in your life?"

"Yes."

No hesitation. He just hoped it was still true.

She dropped her gaze so he couldn't read what she was thinking. Elizabeth turned back and finished stacking the rest of the dishes. They were silent for a time.

"Now I have a question for you, Elizabeth," Michael said.

Elizabeth wiped her hands and looked at him with curiosity, "Oh, of course. Yes?"

He wanted to believe she wasn't involved in all this kidnapping scheme. He closely observed her expression as he questioned her.

"Did you put something in my coffee?"

She appeared baffled at his random question.

"What? You mean like sugar or cream?"

"No, Elizabeth, I mean, did you purposely put a drug in my coffee, something to knock me out?"

Elizabeth opened her eyes wide.

"I can't imagine why you would think that, Michael." She sounded a bit cold at the accusation.

Some people cannot tell a lie, others cannot tell the truth. Spies are trained to tell the difference. They watch to see if a person's words are incongruent to his/her body language gestures. Revealing signs could be: the person in question is unable to make direct eye contact, continually blinks rapidly, or subconsciously touches his or her hands to the face, throat or mouth.

Elizabeth did none of those things but stared directly at him.

Michael did not take any training on how to tell if a person is telling the complete truth.

Interesting, however, that she never really actually denied it.

Their interaction was interrupted by the sound of the loft door opening.

Sam strutted in with a video tape in his hand, followed by Nate, carrying some equipment. Michael made formal introductions to Sam and Elizabeth. Surprisingly, Sam did not make a play for Elizabeth. Of course, that could be due to the well-rehearsed expression that Elizabeth sent Sam's way to let him know of her lack of interest. It must be a look she had used numerous times to many disappointed men.

"So what's up, Sam?" asked Michael, actually relieved in the change of situation.

Nate looked very impatient and agitated.

"Michael! Whatever he shows you, don't believe Sam!"

Nate was trying to grab the video tape from Sam, who held it just out of his reach.

"Calm down, Nate! I need to hear what Sam has to say first!" said Michael, "Sam?"

Sam nodded.

"Nate was able to obtain this bank video tape, which had Ruth making a withdrawal on the day she disappeared," Sam explained, showing the video, "On this tape it showed she was with someone on that day. I viewed it at Maddie's already so that I could edit it and show you the good parts."

"Don't believe what you see on that tape, Bro!" warned Nate, again, "I bet it's been doctored!"

"Nate, why are you talking nonsense?" said Elizabeth, "Why don't we just watch the tape? You said Ruthie's on it, right?"

"Clear as a bell," said Sam.

"Sam..." said Michael, pointedly, "I guess it's too much to expect that the video will also show the face of the other person who may possibly be the kidnapper?"

"Well, that's the thing," Sam explained, "if you look at the video, it shows that Ruth was not kidnapped at all."

.

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_(Note: My inspiration for this chapter was Purdy's Pal and Amanda Hawthorn...so if you didn't like this chapter, please blame them. I'M KIDDING...Hi, you two! ...They are absolutely wonderful!)_

_._

**_Please review._**


	11. Chapter 11

Fi acquires a gun, her way

Chapter 11

People get high in different ways.

Gamblers get high after that one win, convinced they are on a winning streak. Alcoholics get high from that one drink that will give them that light-headed buzz. Shopaholics get high after purchasing an item on sale that they've decided they cannot live without.

And for Fiona Glenanne, getting a high meant adding one more weapon to her arsenal.

So it was with a sense of happy anticipation as she prepared to purchase a new firearm in order to recapture mob henchman Sid Bailey. He had skipped bail the last time she brought him in, so his bail bond had been revoked and he had been sent to prison. She thought that would be the last she would hear of him. But then she received the news that Bailey had escaped from prison this time.

She was going to have to bring him in again.

Although her Uzi would get the work done, she decided to use a little more finesse to catch him. And more finesse meant getting her hands on something a little more portable.

The new "incentive" she would be using on Bailey would come from Seymour, her favorite arms dealer. Their secret rendezvous location was scheduled at the usual secluded sandy beach.

Fi was first to arrive. She watched as Seymour drove up. He was right on time.

Seymour popped out of his car, arms outstretched in a joyous welcome, jubilant to see his favorite customer.

"Fiona! My sweet Fiona!" he shouted her name with glee as he got out. The tails of his shirt billowed in the wind, alongside his unkempt wavy locks and beard. Despite his crazy weaselly looks and nefarious job dealings, Fi always thought Seymour was harmless. But then in her world, wasn't everyone?

"Seymour," she acknowledged, when he was close enough to her. She evaded his bear hug by adding, "Let me remind you again; hugs and guns don't mix."

Seymour smiled knowingly at her as he gave a big wink.

"Oh, saving your affections for someone _special,_ I get it, I get it."

Fi knew he had been referring to Michael. Seymour seemed to have a strange fascination for Michael.

Michael. She hadn't given him a thought in the last...five minutes. Fi sighed regretfully. As much as she hated to admit the fact to herself, she knew capturing bail jumpers and purchasing illegal weapons were not enough to fulfill her life. But enough of this; back to the business at hand.

"Seymour, let's just complete this transaction."

"You know, Fiona," he said as he walked with her around to the trunk of his car, "Since I last saw you, I've been thinking of changing my name!"

"Oh?" said Fi, not really interested, but she had to fill up the empty air with words while he got his trunk open.

"Yeah, 'cuz I figured the name "Seymour" sounded like a guy who got beat up on the playground a lot, right? I've been giving this a lot of thought, you know. I want a tough-sounding name like 'Butch' or "Duke". Something that sounds kick ass! What do you think?"

"...As far as tough names go, Seymour, I've always liked 'Razor'," Fiona casually volunteered, more interested in watching the key being inserted in the lock of the trunk. She didn't add that "Razor" was the name she would have selected for a dog, if she ever got one.

Seymour stopped as he contemplated the name.

"Razor... _Razor._ Yeah, yeah, I like it! Sounds like a real killer, that one! It's a winner! I'll keep 'Seymour' for business purposes, but for my good friends like you, I'll be known as: _Razor!_ Love it! Thanks, Fiona!"

Fiona wasn't going to tell him that she planned on calling him Seymour forever. But until she gets her new gun in her hot little hands, Razor it will be.

Seymour popped opened the trunk. Fi's eyes sparkled at the vast array of artillery weapons available.

While she appreciatively admired the selection, Seymour was busy looking up, over and all around the beach, as if he was expecting for someone to suddenly appear. Fi's eyes settled on a small Beretta 3032 Tomcat. It would suit her purposes perfectly. Compact yet effective.

"So, Fiona, where's my main man? _Where's Michael?_" Seymour asked with hope in his eyes as he continued looking about.

Fi had hoped she could get through this transaction without Seymour mentioning Michael. Beretta or no Beretta, she did not wish to discuss her personal life with her gun dealer.

Seymour, like her, had to get over Michael Westen.

"Seymour- I mean, _Razor_- Michael is not showing up here today. And personally, I think you need to get over your _man-crush_ of him."

Seymour feigned surprise.

"Man-crush? _Man-crush_? What are you saying, Fiona? Get real! I know it's hard for you to see, but even someone of _my_ chosen profession wants to see a happily ever after between my fave lava-hot couple!. 'Cause, I'm telling you, Fiona, the two of you are like two heat-filled fireballs colliding into a complex explosive mass!"

"Very poetic... but can we just get on with business, _please_?"

Seymour crinkled his forehead, looking puzzled at her avoidance of Michael-talk. Someone with Seymour's simple thinking could only come to one conclusion.

His facial expression turned to one of desperation.

"Oh _no_, Fiona! Oh no, no, _no_! Don't tell me...please don't say you two are having _troubles!"_

"Seymour..." began an impatient Fiona.

_That's_ why he's not here, isn't it?" he looked distraught, "_God_! _Noooo_! I wished it wasn't that! Don't let it be _that !_I wouldn't be able to handle it if you two broke up!" Fi could swear she saw tears surfacing in Seymour's eyes.

Fi wanted that Beretta. She just hope she wouldn't be tempted to use it on Seymour. No, I can't just shoot everyone who irritates me, she thought, I don't have enough bullets.

If there is one thing she learned from Michael, it was that sometimes you have to use _words_ instead of weapons to get out of a situation. _Michael._ There she was, thinking about him again.

"Seymour..." began Fi, in a forced calm manner, "You could not be more wrong. Michael is waiting for us at the ice cream shop once this business is completed. He remembered how much you love your little smoothies, am I right? He wants to treat you."

She wondered at times why she was so soft-hearted. She guessed purchasing firearms did that to a woman.

Seymour's tears suddenly evaporated. "For _me_? Wait! Hold- the- train! Michael _said_ he's going to buy me a smoothie? A smoothie for me? A special smoothie for me? Did he actually say my name?_ Did he say 'Sey-mour?"_

Fi nodded.

"I'm going to make mine mango," decided Seymour, " and you know what, Fiona? Maybe _he'll_ order mango, too!" The idea overwhelmed him, as he looked ready to keel over with happiness.

They were interrupted when a black SUV suddenly appeared from almost nowhere and skidded to a halt near them on the isolated beach.

Two men got out, each threateningly holding tire irons in their hands.

Seymour's eyes bugged out as his hands flew to his mouth.

"Oh-no! No! No! I know those two dudes! Fiona! They're bad news! A gun deal gone bad!"

Fi looked back at Seymour and then down at the firearms in the trunk.

"Are any of these weapons already loaded?"

Seymour looked puzzled and scared.

"W-what? _Why, of course not!_" he said, "_loaded_ weapons are an extra charge!"

Fi rolled her eyes.

The two men were getting closer. Fi had to think quickly.

"Do you know how to fight, Razor?"

Seymour face expressed pain just hearing the _question._

"Fiona, _ I'm a lover, not a fighter!_"

Damn, thought Fi.

"Then," said Fi, as she quickly closed the trunk, "Get in the car, Razor. I'll drive us out of here!"

The men started running to prevent the escape.

Seymour nervously threw Fi his keys as she went to the driver's side of his car and he rushed to the passenger side. The keys were thrown too short for Fi to reach and it landed on the soft sand. Fi wasted precious time picking it up.

One of the thugs was waving the tire iron in his hand as he yelled out.

"_Seymour, you motherf*cker, you are dead, I swear, you're dead!"_

With the keys in her hand, Fi grabbed the handle of Seymour's car and swung the door opened. The extra time it took for her to retrieve the keys cost her. Unexpectedly from behind, a tire iron whacked her shoulder. Her body dipped as pain imploded in that area.

"Get in Fiona! _We gotta roll!_" Seymour was already on his side as the goon on his side was hitting the window of his locked car. The two thugs were also cussing at the top of their voices.

Fi was now on the inside of the car door and attempted to close her door, but the guy was on the other side, trying to keep it opened. They were playing tug-of-war with the car door.

She leaned back, using her entire weight into the pull. But her weight could not counterbalance the strength of Thug #1.

Thug #1 held onto the car door with one arm as he brought up his other arm with the tire iron. With full force, he hammered the window with all his might.

_**Kaaaa-shhh!**_

The car window on her side exploded.

Fi quickly turned as glass shattered and sprayed everywhere. Still leaned back, she used one heel to kick through the shattered window, smashing her foot and glass pieces directly onto Thug #1's face. He groaned in pain and his grip loosened, allowing her to shut the door.

She put the key in the ignition. The engine turned over.

Just then the window on Seymour's side of the car shattered.

_**Kaaaa-shhh!**_

"_Jesus H. Christ_!" yelled Seymour as he plastered himself against the headrest while Thug #2's tire iron came flying in through Seymour's side window. The tire iron of Thug #2 was headed towards Fi' face and she lashed out her arm to block it. From behind her, she felt a sharp blow connect on the back of her neck from Thug #1's tire iron. There was a numbing pain.

She shifted into reverse quickly with tires squealing. Thug #2 leapt in through Seymour's window.

_"Help! Help! What- do -I -do?_" screamed Seymour, eyes bugged out, as he pointed to the struggling goon who had his upper body halfway in the car. The guy's legs were dangling outside the car window.

_"Get him out of the car by any means possible!_" commanded Fi, as she looked behind her shoulder to see a bloodied-face Thug #1, making exaggerated steps in the soft sand as he chased after them.

Meanwhile Thug #2 with half his body in and his flailing legs out, was trying to strike Seymour with his tire iron. Seymour tried to flatten himself more against his seat. Meanwhile, Fi was trying to drive out of the situation.

"Uh...hello, Fiona?" Seymour exaggeratedly pointed at a thrashing Thug #2, "He's still... um...here. Help, please?"

_"Oh, for heaven's sake, Razor!_" yelled Fi as she maneuvered the car while at the same time she leaned to her right and gave a sharp elbow to the nose of Number 2. He let out a huge agonized cry as he held onto his nose. His grip eased up and he fell back onto the soft sand.

Fi was able to shift into forward and they made their escape.

"Yeah! Yeah!" yelled a victorious Seymour with a fist-pump, once they were away from the beachfront, "Fiona, babe, you are an awesome ass-kicker!"

She looked forward as she drove on.

"…so I expect you to give me a discount on the ammunition for the Beretta, Razor," announced Fi composedly, as she drove on.

"…fifty percent discount for a lifetime, baby, _a lifetime!_" Seymour was still elated.

Fi smiled. She loved when she got a good deal on bullets.

.

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_(I've always liked the lightness of Seymour's character-may even write a whole story on him! Maybe...)_

**_Please review._**


	12. Chapter 12

Blah-blah-blah Part Two

Chapter 12

Ruth may not have been kidnapped.

Sam's comment to that fact quieted the room. Michael looked over at Nate and saw that his usually bright eyes had a somewhat hollow look to it, like he hadn't slept. Michael knew Nate was worried about Ruth. No one wanted to think Ruth was in on a kidnapping hoax. She was, for all intended purposes, the victim.

The video tape they were about to see would bear out that fact. Or not.

"Ruthie has been kidnapped and nothing will convince me otherwise!" insisted Nate to Sam.

"Sam, let's see the tape," Michael instructed.

Michael, Sam, Elizabeth and Nate gathered around to view the tape. Sam had already edited the tape to show only the part with Ruthie on the tape. He had borrowed Maddie's VCR because, of course, she would have this relic of a machine.

Sam connected Maddie's VCR player and slid the tape into the opening. He pressed the "play" button. All eyes were on the screen.

On the television acreen, a black-and-white image appeared. It was bank's driveway. The view was from up high and it was a little distorted, due to the fish-eye camera lens. There was no sound.

Everyone observed a car driving up. The camera was on the driver's side.

"That's Ruthie's car!" remarked Nate.

They watched in rapt silence as the car window lowered. There was no doubt it was Ruth. She leaned out the window and inserted her card in the bank's ATM machine slot.

She was talking to someone. Then she turned away from the camera for a moment, to the passenger seat. Everybody leaned forward, squinting their eyes, all trying to make out a face of the person next to Ruth, but it was impossible.

The screen only showed the left half of a body, no head shots. The clothes and body frame showed it was definitely a male. The unknown person must have said something funny because Ruth laughed. She then pulled the money out, grabbed her card, and drove off.

Sam switched off the VCR. Silence flooded the room.

"There was another person in the car," Nate was talking fast, "A guy, a bad guy! I think he could have had a gun on her—"

"Nate," Sam tried to sound patient, "Do I believe _you_ or my _lying eyes_? Did you see the same tape I did? She looked to be having a _fine time!_ There was no gun focused on her!"

"Sam's right," said Michael, "she looked very relaxed. It was obvious she didn't feel threatened."

"That's a LIE!" Nate stood up, his words sounded very heated, "at the time, uh, she probably didn't realize she was being kidnapped!"

"I agree with Nate," said Elizabeth, with strong emotions, "she didn't know about his underhanded plans! You don't know what he's like! He's conniving!"

"and callous, too!" added Nate.

Elizabeth and Nate were so emotional with getting their points across that they had not even realized their mistake until it was too late. Sam and Michael exchanged glances.

"You've both just implied that you know this person," Michael said quietly.

Nate and Elizabeth exchanged uncomfortable looks.

"I-I…" Nate's voice trailed off.

"Oh god," was all Elizabeth could say.

Just then Nate's cell phone rang. Nate looked at the ID number. He had an unlisted number, so it was unusual for him to get an unidentified number.

Nate looked up at everyone, his expression very solemn.

"I think it could be him."

"Go ahead and answer it," said Michael, "and put it on speakerphone."

Nate pressed the "send" button on his cell phone.

"Hel-lo?" Nate's voice sounded uncertain.

"_Jerk, who told you that you could go ahead and get some god damn help? Are you purposely tempting me to hurt her?_" The voice was very deep, very menacing and definitely machine-altered.

"Uh...not really...I don't know—" began Nate.

**_"Stop f*cking with me, you SOB! I will hurt her! Don't you get it?"_**

"Please—" Nate began.

"_This is going to cost you._"

Since the guy already knew there were other people involved, Michael spoke to the unknown voice.

"Just be direct and tell us what you want," Michael stated in a businesslike voice.

"_Who the f*ck are you?_" the voice asked angrily.

"I'm his older, concerned brother," Michael evenly said, "Just tell us what you want and I will make sure he gets it to you."

"_Ten thousand. __Call it a penalty price. That's in ad-_"

"_What?_" interrupted Nate, "I don't have that kind of money!"

"Can we negotiate for more time?" suggested Michael, "You've just sprung this demand on us and we _want_ to do as you've requested. But it'll take us time to get the money. Please. _Let us get you what you want._"

There was some background talking/echoing noises, almost as if he was in a public area.

A pause, as if he were thinking.

"_I'll call back momentarily.._._but you better have everything in place._" the voice said and then he hung up.

"_Hel-lo_? _Hel-lo!_ " Nate yelled into the phone, but all he got was a dead line. He hung up. "Damn it to all!

"It's okay, Nate," said Elizabeth gently, "I know you'll think of something, you always do."

Sam observed Michael, looking lost in thought.

"You seem to be doing some heavy thinking over there, Mikey." Sam commented.

Michael looked at Nate, "The kidnappers want something, and it's not money. And Nate...or Elizabeth...you're going to tell me what it is."

"W-what, Bro?" Nate's look of surprise didn't completely reach his eyes.

"No, you're wrong." answered Elizabeth, in a somewhat low voice, "We don't know any more than you. He wants $10,000."

"The kidnapper had called it a penalty price, "explained Michael, " But "penalty" meant the money was added _afterwards_. The guy was going to say something else. At the end he stated, 'that's in ad-' before he was interrupted. I am willing to bet he was going to say _that's in addition to what I originally wanted. _And it wasn't money he originally wanted or he would have mentioned it as a lump sum."

"Yeah, yeah, "agreed Sam, "I get what you're saying. Makes sense."

Michael turned to face Elizabeth.

"I'm thinking that they took Ruth because of you, Elizabeth."

"I don't know what you mean..." Elizabeth said, but there was a tenseness in her tone.

"The kidnappers want something besides money. Whatever it is, Elizabeth has it." Michael repeated, not backing down.

"Elizabeth has something? What? What do you mean, Bro? " asked a doubtful Nate, "I don't think.."

But Elizabeth put her hand on Nate's arm.

"_Enough_, Nate," she said in resignation, "The people in your organization are too brilliant."

"Did I hear right?" Sam looked confused. "Nate in an organization? Are you referring to the boy scouts or did I miss something?"

Elizabeth looked puzzled as she leaned into Nate.

"Oh? You mean Sam doesn't know about...you know... _your secret life, Nate_?" Elizabeth whispered the last part.

"Uh, secret life? Nate?" Sam had overheard, "No, really, Come on! If Nate has a secret life, I'm afraid it's so secret that even _Nate_ probably doesn't know about it."

"_Hey_!" reacted Nate.

Michael turned to Sam, "Sam, in a nutshell, _we- _you and I_-_ are working for Nate, super spy."

Sam's looked stunned, "Oo-_kay_, say it again, but this time,say it _slow-ly_ and don't tell me the nutshell version of the story. I'm going to need to hear the _whole_ acorn tree story."

"Nate confessed to Elizabeth and Ruth that he heads up a spy team," Michael tried to give Sam a look as if to say _accept-what-I-say._

"Confessed? He _confessed_ that?" repeated Sam, "Well, the _first_ syllable is right..."

Elizabeth was baffled.

"I have a first syllable word for you, also, Sam!" Nate shot back

"Stop, you two, Michael refereed, "We really need to focus our attention on the kidnapper. So, Nate, we need to know _everything_ if you still want our help. And it better be_ everything_."

Nate looked at Elizabeth nervously, but Elizabeth nodded as if to give him the go-ahead.

Nate began the story.

_Unbeknownst__ to Elizabeth, her last boyfriend, Mario Vespi, was a notorious mobster boss. _In happier times before Vespi's background came to light, Vespi would visit often with Elizabeth and Ruth, who were roommates at the time. So Ruth was well acquainted with him.__

_In short, when Elizabeth found out about his nefarious dealings, she tried to break it off with him. Of course, that was not easy to do with a mobster. _

_To ensure that she would be able to make a clean break, Elizabeth had taken one of his business ledgers, detailing illegal drug transactions. As long as she had the ledger, Vespi would leave her alone._

_But he did have a temper. And though he would not harm Elizabeth, he wanted that ledger back. So the kidnapping scheme was a way to put the "squeeze" to Elizabeth. In case she contacted authorities, he made sure the calls could not be traced back to him. _

_Ruth told Nate about Elizabeth's predicament. He realized that he needed to find a way to get Ruthie back without giving back the ledger, which was Elizabeth's only leverage against Vespi._

_Nate wasn't sure if Michael would agree to go up against the local mob. He was also afraid that Michael would force Elizabeth to give up the ledger. Nate needed Michael to only rescue Ruthie. Then Nate, Ruthie and Lizzie would return to Vegas, along with the ledger._

"I thought Vespi was operating alone," ended Nate, "Who knew he'd send the whole organization after us?"

Elizabeth spoke out, her eyes asking for forgiveness, "_I_ should have known. I knew how he was! I'm sorry I've caused so much trouble. I never meant for this to happen to Ruthie. _Never!_ Mario may have anger issues, but I didn't think he would really ever hurt Ruthie."

"...and the penalty money," said Sam," was an afterthought from whoever made the call for Vespi. An added bonus for the caller only. I was wondering why it was a relatively small amount."

Everything started to make sense now.

"So, Elizabeth, do you have the ledger here at the loft?" asked Michael.

She nodded.

"...and you actually did not put anything in my coffee?"

"No," said Elizabeth, "unless sugar makes you sleepy."

Spies are cynical about people. They think the worst of people, when they should, at least in the beginning, be thinking the best of people.

So although Elizabeth _was_ involved in the kidnapping, it was not the way Michael had suspected.

"You know what I think, Bro?" asked Nate, "I think we should just go in with guns fully drawn and level everyone in sight!"

Elizabeth looked dismayed at that prospect.

"No, Nate," Michael said sensibly, "No crazed attacks. We are talking about the mob. They are too many, too vicious and too powerful."

"So Mikey, if we don't give the goons the money or ledger, how do we plan to get Ruthie back?" Sam asked.

Michael looked steadily at each person in the room.

"Nate was right all along. We will secretly kidnap Ruthie back," stated Michael with finality.

"I knew it! I told you!" insisted Nate to everyone in the room.

"But what about the ledger?" Sam reminded him, "Vespi will still want to get his hands on the ledger. He's got goons all over the place chasing after us. The guy's relentless. "

"So let them come. We don't need to give him back the ledger, and I'll make sure he won't ever bother Elizabeth again, " challenged Michael, "I've got a plan."

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.

_Please review._


	13. Chapter 13

The secret is out

Chapter 13

"Well, that's a new one, Mikey. We are going to kidnap her back from a kidnapper, thereby doing a re-kidnap." Sam summarized.

"That sums it up pretty well, Sam," responded Michael.

Nate's phone rang again. Everyone froze.

Nate looked at the ID. His hand began shaking, as he looked for reassurance from Michael.

"It's him, Bro, what do I do?"

"Go ahead and pick up," Michael said as Nate pushed the "send" button again.

Static. Then the mechanical voice instructed:"…_No more time, no more excuses. This Wednesday_. _Leave the package and the money under the zoo bench by noon. And just to make sure you comply, I will leave you with this one thought._"

At first there was silence from the phone. After 10 seconds, Elizabeth and Nate jumped at the sound that came next from the receiver.

It was a sharp, sudden female scream.

"_AHHHHhhhhhhh!"_

"_Ruthie_!" yelled Nate into the phone.

The threatening voice added, "_Just_ _remember...it doesn't bother me to hurt people. In fact I enjoy it._" That was it. No further instructions.

They all stared at the now silenced phone. Hearing Ruth's painful shriek brought everyone back to the seriousness of the kidnapping. Images of what would make a woman cry out such a blood-curdling scream entered each of their minds.

This second phone call had been brief, yet effective.

"_Ruthie!_ What are they doing to my Ruthie?" Nate sounded panicky after the phone call. He turned and looked accusingly at Michael and Sam, "And here you both thought the video showed she wasn't kidnapped! What do you have to say for yourselves _now_?"

"Nate—" began Sam.

"..._and_ _Lizzie..._" snapped Nate, as he turned towards her. She stiffened at his harsh tone, "You've practically guaranteed that _he would never hurt Ruthie!_ Did you hear her screaming? What do you think about_ that_?

She watched him with frightened large eyes.

"Nate, stop! You are directing your anger at the wrong people!" said Michael.

"No, I will not stop! Why are we just standing here, Bro? Let's go get those guys!" insisted Nate.

"Maybe we should just give Vespi back the ledger!" suggested Elizabeth desperately, "Anything, a_nything,_ to get Ruthie back! _Nate, tell us what we should do!_"

"_Nate_ is going to tell us what to do?" said Sam, "Everybody clear your heads! No need to start talking _crazy_!"

Nate nervously paced, looking agitated. Keeping his head down, he watched the top of his shoes as he rigidly walked back and forth. Images of Ruthie swirled around in his head, as fear played out on his face.

He suddenly stopped and focused his attention on Elizabeth again. She slightly cowered as she readied herself for the expected onslaught of accusatory words.

"Lizzie," he began, "I'm not a spy." The last part was stated like a quiet announcement.

Elizabeth straightened up, before glancing questionably at Sam, then Michael, and finally at Nate.

"W-_What_?" Elizabeth was lost, "I don't understand..."

"Lizzie, I am not a spy. Not ever." Nate admitted, as Michael nodded approvingly, "There is a kidnapping we need to deal with instead of this nonsense."

Michael never heard such a humble, rational tone coming from Nate as he continued.

"The truth is,"confessed Nate to Elizabeth," all my so-called spy adventures came from watching movies or hearing snippets of Michael's life. I wanted you and Ruthie to think I had lived this very exciting, important job. Sounds rather insignificant, now, in the light of things, doesn't it?"

"You _are_ important, Nate," said Michael gently, "You are important to all of us here and you are most important to your wife and son."

Elizabeth also looked at Nate with a reassuring smile.

"Nate, Ruthie loves you for the person you are, not for the job you held."

Nate's eyes watered slightly as he pleaded to Michael.

"Help me get Ruthie back, Michael. I need her back home. She and Charlie are _my life_!"

He buried his head in shame as Elizabeth put her arms around him.

"_Oh,_ Nate!" Elizabeth empathized.

"_God!_ I am_ such _a screw-up!" Nate mumbled in his hands.

"Nate," said Michael, "Nate, look at me." Nate slowly lifted his head, sadness registering on his face.

"You know," Michael said to Nate, "to admit a fault; to admit you are not who you envisioned you should be, is as brave an act as anything a spy might do."

Nate watched Michael's face for any signs of exaggeration.

"_Really_, Bro?"

Michael reached out his arm to touch his younger brother's arm.

"_Really._ And we are going to get Ruth back," Michael said it with certainty. He next turned to Sam, "Sam, you know what to do?"

Sam nodded. "I'm on top of it, buddy."

Michael and Sam worked like a well-oiled machine. There was no discussion required; Sam knew what to do. The first thing they required was to find the origin of that call.

Sam flipped up his cell phone and called one of his contacts at the phone company. He gave his contact Nate's cell phone number and asked her to trace the caller's number. Sam was halfway through his call.

_"Sam, do you want the address, too_?" asked the female friend over the phone.

"Anything you can give me, honey," Sam said.

"_Ooo, Sam, I'll hold you to that promise_…" the woman's voice seductively replied.

Sam grinned. He still had it. The magic of Sammy.

People who watch too much television think tracing a call takes a long time. Spies know better. That "keep him on the line a little longer" is pure Hollywood schmaltz. Traces are instantaneous. Any operator worth her grain of salt can just plug the number into her computer and presto.

"_Sam, I've got it,_" she said. It didn't take the phone company employee very long, "_The call was made from a payphone inside the Dolphin Mall off 12th street."_

Sam wrote down the number as he relayed the message to everyone in the room. He then ended the call with a promise to thank her later, mojito-style.

At the end of the call, Michael looked baffled.

"Sam, your contact stated the call originated from a mall? Is she sure?" Michael asked.

Sam looked exasperated, "Of course she's sure! _It's her job_, Mikey. Do we second guess you when you steal a file?"

"But it doesn't make sense," Michael stated.

"Why not, Bro? Okay...so the call came from a mall. What's the prob?" asked Nate.

"Why make kidnapping demands from a paid phone in a mall?" asked Michael.

"Mario is a smart man," reasoned Elizabeth, "He would not want the call traced back to him. He probably sent one of his underlings to make the call, and that person randomly picked the mall."

"But a _public mall_?" repeated Michael, " The kidnapper _dragged_ Ruth to _a mall_ and made her _scream_ into the phone"?"

"Hey, _yeah._.. "Sam sounded doubtful, too, "Who would be dumb enough to make her scream in front of all those shoppers?."

No one could answer that question.

"Nevertheless, we have enough to proceed," said Michael, breaking up the silence, " I still think the plan can work."

Michael decided that he would go check out the payphone at the mall. See if the location held any clues. He wanted Sam to work on securing an arsenal of weapons they would need to rescue Ruth. After all, they were going up against a mob boss.

"_Wait_...weapons?" an unsure Elizabeth asked, "You plan to have a shoot- out with Mario's gang?"

"Not quite," said Michael, "Vespi definitely outnumbers us, so we'll pull a con instead. The weapons will be the back-up plan. Hopefully, it will not come to that."

"Uh, Mikey," said Sam, "Shouldn't obtaining weapons be Fi's department?"

"That's right, we should get Fiona!" agreed Nate, "I remembered she was kinda good with weapons and all."

"Who is this person Fi?" questioned Elizabeth.

Oh god, Fi. How he wished to see her again, mad or not mad. But Fi did not want to see him. Her weaponized snow globes said it all. And he didn't want to think about how she would react to seeing Elizabeth in person. It would be best to keep her out of this case.

"Fi will not be with us on this assignment. We can handle this mission without her. That's it, end of discussion," Michael spoke with a firm tone.

Sam looked surprised but knew better than to say something.

"So what will Nate and I do?" asked Elizabeth.

"Stay here," said Michael, "and let me know if the kidnapper calls again."

"But it's Ruthie!" insisted Nate, "I should go with you!"

"I said to '_stay here_' where it's safe. Let Sam and me handle it!" insisted Michael.

Elizabeth, and especially Nate, did not look happy with the decision.

"Please, Michael, I'd like to help some way," Elizabeth pleaded, "It's my fault that they have Ruthie."

"No, Elizabeth," Michael didn't know why his voice suddenly sounded so kind, "It's not your fault. They have Ruthie because they are cruel, dangerous people who chose to do illegal activities. Don't take it out on yourself."

Elizabeth looked at him with huge eyes, "Be safe, Michael."

She looked so helpless then. Unlike Fi, who could more than handle herself in any situation.

At the thought of Fi, his heart dropped.

As beautiful and nice Elizabeth was, she wasn't in Fi's league. Just the image of Fi made his breathing grow a little shallow. It always had been like that around her. As far as he was concerned, he and Fi were not over yet. They had something worth keeping. At least on his side.

Unexpectedly, Elizabeth leaned over and gave a light peck on Michael's cheek. It was definitely a pleasant sensation, but that was all. She followed it up with one of her 'make- a -man- melt' smiles.

Yet all Michael had to do was think about Fi again and it took away the effect of the grateful gesture.

Sam cleared his throat.

A spy could not afford to be distracted while on a mission. That split second of not focusing on what needed to be done could be the second that gets a spy injured or killed.

Michael retrieved his gun and left with Sam.

The loft dwindled to half its occupants. The tenseness in the room seemed to lessen as Elizabeth turned to Nate.

"Do you think we have a chance getting Ruthie back?" Elizabeth sounded scared.

"Don't worry, Lizzie. I have faith in my brother. He's the best there is."

"But Nate, just the two of them? Against all of Mario's people? I'm honestly scared for them!'

Nate paused.

"I know, Lizzie...I'm scared too."

"I just wished we could do something to help!" Elizabeth sounded exasperated.

The words that Michael said about Nate being as brave as any spy echoed in Nate's mind.

"You're right, Lizzie...we've already done some brave things!... Michael and Sam are good, but...this is Ruthie, after all! Michael and Sam might just need our help!"

"...by help, I hope you don't mean for us to fight the bad guys, too(?)" Elizabeth sounded apprehensive.

_"_I'm not exactly saying that, Lizzie..." said Nate, as he started to return to his usual animated self_, "Look,_ we know where Michael is headed so we'll just do surveillance on him. We'll watch him, you know, to make sure everything is on the up and up. If it's good, we'll leave, I promise! If not... _we'll be there for him!"_

"Well," Elizabeth's uncertainty was weakening, "if you put it like that..."

Nate felt revitalized. Yes! A chance to save Ruthie AND redeem himself! He liked that.

"Let's go!" Nate excitedly said, as they headed out the door. With how he was feeling now, he knew he could take on anything in order to get Ruthie back...a beating, a broken bone or the worst punishment of all...a tongue lashing from his real life super- spy brother.

.

.

_(Yay! Exposition over and now the action begins! Look out! And yes, Fi does appear in the next chapter)_

_Please review._


	14. Chapter 14

A confrontation

Chapter 14

Michael had reached Dolphin Mall in no time. Few cars were present. Instead of parking in the three -tiered parking structure, he decided to park across the street in a little alleyway. This gave him better visibility of the entire mall.

He was here to check the origin of the kidnapping phone calls. Usually he would check all around before exiting his car, but he had been so preoccupied with his plans with the con job they needed to pull, he had been careless.

He got out of the car and started walking towards the mall. A husky man popped out from behind a building, obstructing his way. Something did not feel right.

Michael's instinct was to walk the other way. But, wait, he indirectly recognized this man, although they had never met. It was the tattoo that gave away the guy's identity. Sam had mentioned that a guy with a tattoo in the design of a blood- dripping knife on his neck was involved in the kidnappings.

Although at this distance, Michael couldn't make out this guy's tattoo, he figured there weren't a lot of guys with obvious tattoos on their necks. He would need to get closer to the guy to be certain. If this guy was involved in the kidnapping, Michael would not let him leave.

In the spy world, there are no coincidences, only bad circumstances.

Sid Bailey, the tattooed man, was a person of a few words. And some of those words were cuss words.

"You," Bailey pointed at Michael, "You are the f*cking brother of Nate Westen."

Oo-_kay..._ the odds of this guy being involved in the kidnapping just skyrocketed through the roof.

Michael reached underneath his jacket for his weapon. He felt the usual spot, then he felt all around his chest. Damn. He closed his eyes in frustration when he realized he had left his gun in the glove compartment. Again, the excuse being he had been too distracted.

A spy should never...No, stop. With that last mistake, Michael didn't deserve a voice- over commentary.

Tattoo man blocked Michael's path, waiting for an answer.

"Yes, I am his brother," admitted Michael to the tattooed man, "What of it?"

"You and your cronies have been a goddamn pain-in-the-neck for us." The man did not look happy.

"Look, I know you work for Vespi, so just to make things clear, I don't deal with the hired help," Michael responded.

Instead of looking insulted, the man smiled ferociously. He was what a person might describe as ugly, with pores big enough to punch a fist through. Well, slight exaggeration there, but not much.

Looking beyond him, Michael had spotted a van parked a few spaces down. He could make out two figures in the front seat. That fact was a cause for concern. If the two people in the vehicle were witnesses, Michael didn't want innocent people hurt; yet if they were Bailey's backup, _he_ didn't want to be hurt.

"Name's Bailey," Tattoo man said, "I told you my name because I may be the last person you meet."

Suddenly Michael was jarred by a blow. Bailey had thrown a punch. Luckily Michael had sensed the fist at the last second. He ducked slightly and the blow just skimmed across the top of Michael's head.

A spy knows that the palm strike is a very effective hit. If a palm strike is done correctly, with the major strike landing on the meaty bottom of the palm, he has a strong weapon.

Michael went for the diaphragm. He landed the shot just below the sternum and heard the air burst out of Bailey. Michael then pulled on the injured man's arm and threw him in an awkward karate flip.

Deciding to join in the action, two strong- looking men had exited the parked white van. With their no necks and bulky frames, they looked like boulders. And they looked ready to rumble.

Bailey had rolled on the ground. He would be up in no time and then it would be three husky men against one.

No time to back down now as Big Boulder man and Medium Boulder man started to charge Michael.

Michael faked a move to the right then moved to the left instead. They were now behind him. He then threw a roundhouse kick at the first guy. Big Boulder ducked as Michael looped his arm around Medium Boulder for a headlock.

Big Boulder decided to act and leaped at Michael from behind.

While holding on to Medium Boulder, Michael attempted a high mule kick at Big Boulder behind him and it landed on Big's chest, which made him reel back.

**BANG!**

The brawl stopped at the sound of a gunshot.

Bailey had fired a shot up in the air. He next brought the gun forward, aiming it directly at Michael, a hideous smile on his face.

"You didn't think for one second that I would come unprepared, would you, Westen?" he asked. Big Boulder and Medium Boulder grabbed onto Michael. One of them gave Michael a solid punch to his middle as the other two men sneered.

"So what do... you want from me?" Michael had to take a deep breath. Outwardly, he appeared calm, but inwardly he took a deep swallow as he sized up the situation. He was clearly at a disadvantage.

"Stop your investigating," Bailey said, "let us deal with your brother and the ledger with no interference from you or your gang."

"I don't have a so-called 'gang', I don't know what you mean," said Michael, wondering how much Bailey knew, "but I have a right to protect my little brother from hired thugs like you."

_**KA-BOOOM!**_

A distant but loud explosion interrupted their talk. The ground shook beneath them. They all turned to view the spectacular sight of a big cloud of gray smoke with flames burning from the ground up. It was off in the distance, but even from here, they could smell burnt metal as ashes from the blast flickered and drifted all around.

"What the f*ck was that?" asked Big Boulder, squinting his eyes towards the direction of the fiery spectacle.

"Hey, Bailey, isn't that near where you parked your motorcycle?" asked Medium Boulder.

"Noooo! My bike!" bellowed Bailey, "_Who the hell caused that explosion_?"

Michael had one guess.

A feminine arm suddenly snaked around Bailey's neck as the barrel of a gun appeared next to his forehead.

From seemingly nowhere Fi's face materialized next to Bailey's.

Michael had never been so happy to see a familiar face in his entire life. She obviously had used the explosion as a diversion to conceal her arrival. But how had she known he was here?

It didn't matter. The important thing was, she was here. He gave her a welcoming smile, but, astoundingly, her expression showed irritation at him.

That's when realization hit Michael.

She hadn't known Michael would be here, therefore, she wasn't here to rescue him. According to Sam, she had been working on trying to capture Sid Bailey again. She had probably been doing surveillance when she stumbled upon this mess.

"_W-what the hell did you do to my bike_?" Bailey choked out the words angrily at Fi.

"And a hello again to you, Bailey," greeted Fi in her usual calm manner, "You should be worrying more about the damage that may be done to your forehead than the damage definitely done to your bike."

Bailey sweated profusely as he heard the voice he dreaded the most, pointing a gun at his forehead.

Meanwhile, one of the Boulders used Michael as a shield as he also pulled out a revolver. He shoved it against Michael's side. From the sidelines, the other Boulder also whipped out a weapon and pointed it at Michael.

The two Boulders scoffed at Fi with a _take-that!_ type of look.

"Sneaking up like that did you no good, Sweetheart," stated Big Boulder to Fi, "See, we've got three guns against your one."

"_Yeah!_" derided Medium Boulder, "do the math, girly."

Fi kept her arm around Bailey's neck. Then she squeezed his windpipe. Tighter and tighter. Bailey's face turned a bright red as the oxygen drained away. Feeling as though he was at death's door, he let his gun fall to the ground. She loosened her grip.

"The odds are getting better," she claimed, "much better."

The two thugs looked at each other, waiting for the other to make the decision. They watched Bailey wincing as Fi held firmly to his throat with the gun still aimed at him.

All eyes were on the gun pressed at Bailey's head.

_That was their big mistake._

Like a magician, Fi wanted them to watch one thing while she was working her magic with her other hand.

Using Bailey's body to block their view, she readied her _second gun_.

Only Michael knew what Fi was up to. He tilted his head left, until his cheek almost touched his shoulder, while he kept the rest of his body immobile.

BANG!

The bullet from the second gun that Fi kept hidden ay Bailey's side zoomed past Michael's slanted head and struck Big Boulder in the middle of his forehead. Michael felt something gooey and wet going down the side of his face from the man who had held him seconds earlier. Big Boulder was dead before he hit the ground.

She turned quickly and fired on Medium Boulder, as blood spurted from his heart, like a mini-geyser. It had happened so suddenly, he didn't even know what hit him before he dropped dead.

Spies should never be distracted. That was what Michael was going to voice-over earlier, but now the commentary applied to Fi. Unfortunately.

"Drop it!" demanded a booming new voice.

Fi pivoted around to where Michael had stood. The diversion of killing two thugs had taken Fi's attention from a weaponless Michael.

During that time, a big man with a baseball cap had sneaked up on Michael, and with a karate chop, took control of him. Baseball cap guy had a weakened Michael in a chokehold, the point of a dagger held against Michael's throat. Michael felt a trickle of blood falling down his neck, followed by another drop.

And Baseball Cap was slowly digging the knife deeper in Michael's flesh.

Fi looked at Michael with pursed lips. She had no choice but to drop her guns and release Bailey. Freed at last, Bailey angrily turned and smacked Fi hard.

"YOU _B*tch_!"

Fi felt her whole side of her face explode on impact. She staggered and held onto her cheek. Bailey had picked up his gun.

Michael strode over to Fi. He didn't care what they did to him as he tried to comfort her. But instead of accepting his support, she indignantly jerked herself out of his grasp. Looking straight ahead, she ignored his attentions.

"Aww...lookie at the angry lovebirds...awww...that's so sweet. You-make-me-want-to-shoot-the-two-of-you," Bailey sneeringly stated as he kept his gun on them. The other two men laughed at his jest as Bailey's tone now turned serious, "Enough of this. Get in the damn van right _now_."

xxx

In the meantime, a green sedan had just reached the mall.

"There's a space! Park over there, Nate! Wait! Across the street is a better!" pointed Elizabeth as Nate slowed the vehicle, "Just make a u-turn and..."

"Lizzie, stop! I'm just parking _here._ It's good; it's close enough to the mall!"

Nate maneuvered his car into a spot. After turning off the engine, he was going to exit the car when something far off caught his attention. There were four people near the mall alleyway and they were obviously not shopping. He had a bad feeling as he watched the four figures.

"Binoculars...where are those binoculars I brought, Lizzie?" He looked all around the interior of the car. Finding them, he lifted them up to his face and focused.

"_Holy damn!_" he exclaimed.

"Nate! What is it?" Elizabeth asked, as she squinted in the direction he was looking.

"T-that's... Michael and Fiona!" stated Nate, "They're being forced into a van!"

"What? Oh god! No!" cried out Elizabeth as she yanked the binoculars away to look. She, too, observed the abduction through the binoculars. "Nate, I bet those are Mario's underlings! Shouldn't we call the police or something?"

"We don't need the police...we have us! We'll follow them and then when the opportunity arises, POW! we'll intercept them!"

Nate started up his car, waiting for the van to pull out. Elizabeth placed the binoculars down and looked questionably at a determined Nate.

"But once we reach them, what can _we_ do, Nate? After all, I don't know anything, and you're not really a...you know..._a spy._.."

"Who cares, Lizzie? If Michael and Fiona are in trouble, we will save them and then we'll all get Ruthie!"

"But we don't have any guns or weapons of any sort," claimed Elizabeth.

"Who needs that, when we have our wits!" declared Nate enthusiastically, "We can get those idiots, I'm sure of it!"

"I don't know, Nate...I just hope you know what you are doing..." said Elizabeth with uncertainty.

Nate puffed his chest out.

"We can do it, Lizzie! You will be the eyes as we tail them, and I'll be the brains! Don't lose sight of them!" Nate had changed into spy mode, "And when we confront them, those bad guys won't know _what_ hit them!"

.

_Please review._


	15. Chapter 15

Michael and Fi bond together

Chapter 15

Sid Bailey and Baseball Cap were rushing Michael and Fi to get in the van. They could already hear sirens in the distance, signaling the police and other emergency vehicles. Obviously someone had called after hearing the gun fired in the air and/or witnessing the explosive destruction of Bailey's bike.

Bailey pushed Michael and Fi towards the back of the van with the muzzle of his automatic.

"Get in the back NOW! Bailey spoke with urgency.

All four stepped into the back of the van as Bailey shut the door, obscuring them from the public. Then Baseball Cap patted down Michael and Fi, taking cellphones and any items that could be construed as weapons.

The rear part of the van was separated from the front by a steel wall. This back cargo area was empty except for a rusted, bolted-down steel bar, located near the front of compartment. The bar was used to tie down items- or people- that they needed transported.

"Hand me the handcuffs and we'll lock 'em up to the bar, real good like," ordered Bailey.

Baseball Cap guy looked hesitant and embarrassed.

"Gee, Bailey, I've only got the one set of cuffs. You said we were only gonna get the dude."

"_Idiot!_" grumbled Bailey, "That was the original plan until you've decided to show up so f*cking late! Sh*t! We can't just shoot one and not the other..._although_..."

He pivoted and aimed the gun at Fi. Michael made a move until Baseball Cap whacked him on the head with the palm of his hand, discouraging him from making any more sudden moves. Fi watched the incident with a blank expression.

"Well, Bailey," said Baseball Cap, "If it's gonna be a hassle, why don't we just shoot them both now?"

Bailey looked disgusted.

"Can you_ ever_ think by your goddamn self? You want us to shoot them when cops are crawling all over the place? Besides, didn't you hear Vespi say he wanted us to bring him back alive? And the B*tch could be like an added bonus! You know how he always likes the good looking ones. _God!_ Do you _ever_ use your brain?"

Baseball Cap looked dumbstruck.

"Well, we just gotta make due with what we have, I suppose," Bailey added, looking at the one pair of handcuffs," ...Just pull the damn handcuffs through the bar and connect it to our 'cargo'. We gotta head out _pronto_ before the cops start snooping around and all hell breaks loose!"

The handcuffs were looped around the steel bar. Michael could have sworn he heard Fi sigh with disgust as one of their wrists were each yanked forward and locked in the steel bonds. They were unceremoniously being handcuffed together to the steel bar. The two goons checked the links before leaving for the front cab.

Michael and Fi were alone in the back as they heard the engine start up. The van sputtered before it jerked loudly forward and pulled out of its parking place.

With no way to balance themselves, they felt themselves stumbling in the closed quarters of the noisy van while it rambled on. Standing up during the drive would be an impossibility, as they found it hard to maintain their balance.

Being that there were no seats in the empty compartment, Michael and Fi had no choice but to sit on the hard floor of the van. Wordlessly, they each selected a spot to sit. Fi purposely chose to sit so that her back was facing him.

The van went bumpity-bump down the road. They could feel their bodies roughly being pounded left and right and then up and down as the van headed towards its destination.

The only light coming in the back was from the two small rectangular windows placed high on the back doors of the van. The little sunlight spilling in made two sun-squares on the floor of the van.

As they were being jostled about, Michael peered over at Fi. He was thinking that even the back view of her was alluring.

Michael broke the silence, although he felt strange addressing Fi's back.

"Is _this_ the way it's going to be the entire drive to wherever-the-hell-we're-going, Fi?"

She turned around halfway and Michael felt his heart leap at the sight of her profile.

"Well, if you are bored," she stated, "I could always turn around and _slug you_ to break up the monotony. Would that help, Michael?"

She turned back around and Michael was once more staring at the back of her. He sighed dejectedly. Her back side didn't look so enticing now.

The van rattled on.

At one point, the van turned and drove too fast over a huge bump. Fi's body was unexpectedly thrown Michael's way.

"_Damn!_" Fi could be heard mumbling under her breath as her backside slammed into his front.

Michael felt an arousal coming from deep inside, as his body instinctively responded to the warmth of her body. He ached for her nearness. It would have been so easy to enclose her in a backward hug. But he didn't dare do it with the mood she was in now.

"Fi?" It came out as a question. As she turned to face him, he thought he detected her body slightly tremor.

Within their close space, she turned fully around now. Her beautiful blue/green eyes were unreadable, but at least the look of irritation had disappear. He held his breath.

The van continued unsteadily onward. He did not make a move towards her for fear of being rejected. Let Fi be the one to act first.

They were almost in a trance as they observed one another. There was an intensity, a hunger in both their eyes as she placed her hands hesitantly on top of his shoulders.

Then using Michael's upper chest for balance, Fi effortlessly finessed her long, tanned legs around his torso.

The metal locked chains made clanking sounds with her every movement, but Michael was unaware of the bothersome noise. His throat suddenly felt dry as he heard the pounding of his own heart.

Anticipation increased. She leaned in and pressed her lips on his, urging him to react.

Michael initially stiffened, thinking that it was a trick. But her mouth was so hot and demanding, that it didn't take much from her to force his lips apart. He quivered as his body freely accepted the soft curves of her body while quenching his physical needs at the same time.

She drove deeper with her tongue and his pulse throbbed wildly as he couldn't stop himself from responding. His senses swam with pleasure. He encircled his arms around her familiar form while she arched her back in order to feel closer to him.

The dilapidated van dissolved in a sensual rush. It felt so wonderful, the sensation of her mouth again, insistent and fiery. They were clasped in stirring passion as their kisses searched deeply, exploring with a rough tenderness. It was as if they were making up for lost time. Her tongue seduced him completely as their moans escalated.

For Michael, Fi was like an exotic spice to be savored.

At one point Fi turned her head to stop this madness, but he followed the movement, angling his head more intimately over hers and she surrendered to him once more. She felt the heat of his fingertips brush the side of her face before it cradled her cheek.

Fi was brought back to reality when she felt Michael's hand slowly trailing down her body. With a muffled sound, her hands stubbornly flattened and she pushed at his chest to get him away from her.

Parts of his body were still throbbing with desire as he stared at her in disbelief.

"Fi—" He sounded thoroughly confused.

She kept her arms wedged between them as she awkwardly climbed off from him. Outwardly, her expression was neutral, but inwardly, she seethed with frustration at the effect Michael had on her. It had taken all her willpower to tear herself away from him.

"I guess we are considered even now." she stated, managing a cold stare. The long metal handcuffed chain was almost taut due to their separation.

He knew this was payback for the time he had dramatically rejected her in a middle of a kiss at her place. Michael had to admit that he had been wrong when he did that to her. He had been motivated by the pure unfairness of the situation. However, two wrongs do not make a right.

He was determined that Fi would not get the upper hand in this situation. His voice sounded indifferent when he spoke.

"I see you enjoy the power of withholding your charms, Fi."

His aloof manner did not seem to bother her in the least.

"I just wanted to even the score, Michael" she countered.

"Considered it done, Fi."

"Good, then."

She stared straight forward, as if nothing had happened, although Michael detected a slight trembling of her lips.

The van hit another large bump, as Fi's body was forced forward towards his again. But this time she was able to stop the forward movement with her arms and she quickly returned to her original spot without touching him.

"I want-" he began but stopped when he saw Fi's outrage bubbling to the surface.

"Michael, don't say _anything_ to me!" Fi's eyes flashed, "It is because of _you_ that I am in this mess! I could have easily done my job and re-captured Bailey, but _no_! I had to waste my time to save _you_! So not only was I unable to do my job, I am now being held _captive by him_! Held captive by a moron like Bailey! AND IT IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

That was the most Fi said to him in a long time. Therefore he didn't consider her ranting to be all bad.

"Well, Fi, I'm not exactly watching TV and eating bon-bons, myself." Michael pointed out.

"At least in the future, you'll _have_ someone to watch TV and eat bon-bons with!" Fi insinuated.

Dammit_!_ Michael thought, _Dammit!_

He pulled as hard as he could on his metal chain of the handcuffs.

_Clang...clang..clang!._

The chain rattled before becoming completely taut. Michael pulled so hard that his wrist was turning white against the cuff of the steel lock.

Fi shrugged, "You need to control your anger."

Michael shot back a bitter look, "_What_? I need to control _my_ anger? This coming from a person who yells without listening, shoots without asking questions, and worst of all, catapults snow globes at people?"

"I didn't see anger displayed with _any_ of those examples," Fi folded her arms.

Gggrrrrr! Total frustration as Michael again pulled on his metal chain.

_Clang...clang..**.**_

"Stop that, Michael," Fi ordered.

"I think, Fi," said Michael above the clanging noises, "that doing this to vent my frustration is the only thing that is keeping me sane."

_Clang! Clang! Clang!_

"Well, I don't like it, Michael. The sound is irritating for me."

"You think _that's_ irritating, Fi?" said Michael, "try being the other person, dealing with _your_ temper! Once you get riled up, it's impossible talking to you!"

"Maybe I have a reason to be angry. Michael!"

"And that would be?"

"Trust," stated Fi, "Something that is missing in our relationship. And when we don't have any trust between us, _we have NOTHING!"_

They were getting nowhere. At this point, Michael felt maybe it was best to stop talking. He rubbed his neck, wondering how long they would have to be linked together.

Fi, meanwhile, was thinking she wanted to beat up both Michael and that... that _hussy_ to smithereens!

Silence enveloped the confined compartment of the van as it slowly continued on its way to destination unknown.

The lack of talk was a welcome relief. Maybe Michael should rest, for he knew that once they arrived at their destination, it would be a grueling ordeal. What was he thinking? The gueling ordeal was now. He'd rather face the bad guys anytime.

Even spies sometimes feel that the grass is greener on the other side.

He needed to get his mind on something else. Rest. He'll feel better after some peace and quiet. Michael put his head down and closed his eyes to force himself to sleep.

Fi watched as Michael shut his eyes and put his head down. Soon, he seemed to be asleep as his head lulled a bit due to the van's uneven ride. When he finally found a comfortable position, his face relaxed.

For a split second, a wave of tenderness swept through Fi at his peaceful expression. He looked so...blameless.

Maybe, thought Fi to herself, Yolanda the waitress had gotten it wrong. Perhaps there really was nothing going on between Michael and Hussy. Maybe Hussy was a 500 pound sumo wrestler.

The van bumpily traveled on. She was not in a good mood and her backside was starting to ache. She looked at Michael again, looking all relaxed.

Yeah, Hussy a sumo wrestler, _right._ Fi knew better. Michael was only evasive if he wanted to hide something and he had definitely hidden Hussy from her.

No way was he going to get a peaceful ride, she surmised. The van bounced up and then dipped slightly. Fi was going to make sure Michael had one long, bumpy ride in this van, literally AND figuratively!

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_(A reviewer earlier had asked if Maddie will appear in this story. Unfortunately, no, I think I have enough people to juggle around! Thanks for your interest)_

**_Please review._**


	16. Chapter 16

Michael and Fi and their favorite things

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Chapter 16

A large bump sent the van flying and woke Michael, who had been only in a light sleep for ten minutes. He could have sworn that at the same time he felt the bump, he had felt something like a kick (?) He looked over at Fi and judging from her expression, he thought better not to ask her.

Michael looked at his watch. They had been driving on the same road for forty-five minutes. Michael could tell when they had left the urban setting to a more isolated area, as the acceleration took on a steady cruise. They had covered maybe 50 miles.

From the jarring compartment of the van, Michael had no idea which direction the fifty miles was taking them.

Michael and Fi tried to get comfortable but with all the jostling, they knew at the end of the ride they would have sore muscles. They had decided that the best position was to sit sideways against the side of the van, legs straight out. Their cuffed wrists lay together on the flat top of the metal bulge of the wheel well.

They faced each other like lovers in a café, but they were, unfortunately, _in annoyance_ with each other and refused to speak to one another.

A spy knows that when one is locked in a confined area, the best advice is to stay calm, stay relax and stay ready. But it was a difficult thing to accomplish when your partner is throwing mental daggers at you.

The van rocked back and forth in an incessant rhythmic motion. The handcuff made a clanging noise as Michael bent one knee and rested his arm on it. At least he could do something productive. He was playing out different scenarios in his mind on how he wanted to work out his con.

_Hum..hum-hum-hum...hum..._

Michael slowly came out of his speculations when he heard an annoying sound. From across the way, Fi was humming as she boringly looked around the van. Michael needed quietness to think and the sound grated on his nerves. Michael peered at Fi.

"Fi, what are you doing?"

Fi turned her head to look at him. For a split second, Michael felt his heart melt as their eyes met. But then he noted the coldness of her eyes and the hard line of her mouth, reminding him of their precarious situation. They were bound together not because of how they felt for each other but because they were being held captive.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Michael? Baking a cake?" She asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"You know what I mean, Fi. Why are you humming? You _never_ hum!"

She gave an irritated sigh.

"I'm bored, if you must know. Can't a person just hum a song to entertain herself, Michael? "

But she was not fooling Michael.

"Not in this case, Fi. I think you are humming just to vex me," Michael accused her.

Fi did not deny it.

"So, if you know the reason, then why ask?"

Michael pulled at his chain again. Hard. One, because he was irritated, and two, because he knew it would bother her.

That only made Fi hum louder to be heard over the clanking of the chains.

_Hum..hum-hum-hum...hum..._

__Clang...clang...clang...__

__Hum..hum...__She stopped.

"-I can do this _all day_ and you know what? At the end of the day, _my_ wrist won't hurt." she pointed out before continuing.

_...hum-hum.._

She was right. Michael gave up and disgustedly threw down the clanking chain.

_Hum..hum-hum-hum...hum..._

Grrr. Michael felt like putting his hands to his ears, but knew that would not stop the nagging tune from echoing in his ears. He was locked up, so he could not just walk away; he could only sit and hear the stupid humming of the same song over and over again. There had to be a way to end it.

"Stop it, Fi," he said, and then, as an afterthought, added, "_please."_

She gave him a challenging look, "Well, I might_,_ if you can name the song I'm humming." She started up the humming again.

_Hum..hum-hum-hum...hum..._

Michael was beyond irritated. Okay, calm down. He had survived torture in Kazakhstan, he could survive this. Concentrate. He was determined to recognize the damn song she was humming, if only to make her stop. Wait. The tune reverberated in his mind and soon recognition registered on his face.

"I've got it, Fi...is that song 'My Favorite Things'?"

Michael could almost hear the dinging of the bell, telling him it was the correct answer.

She did not directly answer him.

"It's good you know your movie musicals, Michael."

She began humming again.

_Hum..hum-hum-hum...hum..._

_"_Wait, Fi.._._ you had said you would stop."

Looking directly at him, she replied, "I said I_ might_."

_Hum..hum-hum-hum...hum..._

He thought he would explode. Michael was determined not to let her have the upper hand.

The van's engine was loud as the vehicle unevenly swayed. Damn captivity, damn humming.

A spy works at manipulating a situation. One way is with clever, persuasive talk. But that method is predictable to another operative who would know how a certain spy thinks.

Michael watched Fi warily.

So an alternate plan might be to act _unlike a spy_. Do the opposite and just blurt out _whatever_. This would compel the adversary to stop his -or her- action in order to deal with the unexpected comment.

"You know what? I've always _hated_ that song."

_Hum..hum-hu-_

Fi gave him a confrontational look.

"Oh, really? You _hate _the song _My Favorite Things_? No one should ever _hate_ a beloved song from a classic movie, Michael. It's...it's...unAmerican to think like that."

At least she had stopped. Michael cleared his throat to give himself time to think before speaking.

"Actually, Fi, the melody is pleasant enough. It's just that I don't get the lyrics," Michael's mind was working quickly.

Fi sat up, prepared to debate.

"What do you mean you don't _get_ the lyrics, Michael? It's pretty explicit. What is there to understand?"

"Let's face it, Fi, some of the lyrics do not make sense,' he explained, "some of her favorite things were: _Doorbells_? _Schnitzels_? _Whiskers on kittens_? ..._Really_? Sorry. No way should they be favorite things. Were those items on _your_ Christmas list?"

"W-what?" Fi blinked quickly, trying to take in what he was asking.

"I am asking you, Fi,... when was the last time items such as _doorbells_, _schnitzels_ and _whiskers on kittens_ were favorites on your Christmas list?"

"I am _quite_ sure I don't know what you mean, Michael." Fiona pretended to be interested in her fingernails. Her head was down but he could tell Fiona was fighting a grin.

At least their interaction was getting friendlier. She no longer looked as if she wanted to punch his lights out.

"Really, Fi? You don't know what I mean?...Did you _ever_ think: Gee, if I only had _a doorbell, _I would be the happiest woman in the world?"

"You've misinterpreted the song, Michael," Fi insisted, staring harder at her nails.

"And what the hell are _schnitzels, _anyway?" Michael carried on, "Are they schizo pretzels? I _hate_ when pretzels are demented."

"Now you're sounding ridiculous." She kept her face hidden as her shoulders shook slightly.

"—And don't even get me started on the part where she sings 'brown paper packages tied up with strings' as a favorite thing. What the hell favorite thing is _that_?"

Fi had an answer for that one."It means she likes simple presents as a favorite thing...makes _perfect_ sense to me..."

"Presents, yes." Michael agreed, "But _brown_ paper? Tied up with _strings_? Isn't that how they mail _porn videos_? Should porn really be a favorite thing for _a nun?_ Am I being irrational here?"

Michael shrugged in befuddlement. That did it. The harder Fi fought at controlling her laugh, the faster it came. It started as a snicker, but turned into a full-blown laugh.

_Hahahaha..._

He tilted his head in quiet observation. Michael so rarely heard her laugh with delight, which truly was like "the sound of music". He looked pleased.

Michael closed his eyes, so that he could concentrate on the pleasant sound, feeling a sense of contentment he hadn't felt for a while.

xxx

At the same time, unbeknowest to the occupants in the van, a green sedan with tinted windows was covertly shadowing the van.

"Stay closer!" Elizabeth whispered to Nate, as she watched the van up ahead, "We don't want to lose them!"

Strange that she would whisper, as she and Nate were the only ones in the car. Even stranger, Nate was whispering back.

"Don't worry! I see them! _I see them, Lizzie!_"

"I'm just saying! We can't lose them!" reminded Lizzie, still keeping her voice low.

Nate looked at his riding companion.

"God, Lizzie, there's only one road! How can we lose them?"

"Easily, when it's _us_ trailing them, Nate!"

Elizabeth let out an exasperated sigh as she rolled down her window slightly to get some fresh air.

The noise of light plastic started rattling from the back seat. Elizabeth turned around to look on the floor of the backseat.

"Nate, what's in this white plastic shopping bag here?" she asked, back to a normal tone. She brought the bulky shopping bag up to the front and peered inside.

"Something Mom gave me," explained Nate as he continued following the van, "she said it might come in handy if I come in contact with some bad guys."

"Nate…it's a bunch of soup cans!"

" I know, I know! I don't get it, either, so I just took them and threw them in the back seat."

"How strange," commented Elizabeth, "Do you think she meant for us to make soup during the day?"

"I doubt it. I've already checked for eating utensils. None. Anyway, if I recall her exact words correctly, she said they should be used _against_ the bad guys."

"Like we're suppose to feed them?" asked a confused Elizabeth.

"Who knows? This is Mom! I really can't tell you how my mom thinks," Nate said, "no one can."

"So what do we do with them?"

"I don't know…I don't have time to figure that out…right now I've got to concentrate on how we will rescue my brother and Fiona," he said as he concentrated on the road.

He drove a distance. How could they overcome the bad guys? Neither one of them knew how to fight nor did they have a weapon. And the professional bad guys had at least two weapons.

Nate glanced down at the soup cans. There were so many of these hard, solid cans of soup in the bag. Wait. So many. Hard. Solid. He and Lizzie had no weapons. An idea came to mind and he pounded the steering wheel hard with both his hands in delight at the brilliant plan, causing Elizabeth to jump.

"_What_, Nate? What is it?"

The engine revved as his foot pressed down harder on the gas pedal, in order to catch up with the van.

"I've got it, Lizzie! I know how we can help Michael and Fi. AND we are going to use the soup cans to help us!"

"No kidding? What are we going to do with the soup cans..._throw them at the bad guys_?"

Nate snorted, "Are you kidding? What a dumb idea that would be! No, no! Something better! But I'll need your help to do this. Will you do this Lizzie? Will you help?"

A hesitate Elizabeth looked at an over-confident Nate. He seemed to know what to do. And not only was Ruthie his beloved wife, Ruthie was Elizabeth's best friend, too.

"...I'll help any way I can..." agreed an unsure Elizabeth.

Nate was getting excited, as he pressed his foot down on the accelerator in order to pass the van, "Like they say in the commercials-soup's on!"

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**_Please review._**


	17. Chapter 17

Detective Chuck Finley

Chapter 17

Sam's responsiblity had been to get a cache of weapons, in case of emergency, for when they would eventually go up against Vespi. That was easy enough for him to do. He just needed to drop over Fi's place for some one- stop shopping.

She was not home and she was not picking up her calls. Probably out running some simple gun transaction. Oh, she won't mind, if he "borrowed" a few weapons, Sam thought. He'd be sure to leave her a note. It would give her an excuse to get _more_ weapons and she'd actually like that. It's her way of self-medicating.

He let himself in with her key that she had hidden in a rock. And it wasn't the usual key-hidden-in-a-fake-rock. No _siree_, not for Fi. She had actually taken a _real_ rock and managed to make a secret hole in it. Sam smiled to himself. He couldn't imagine how she was able to make such a tiny hole in a solid rock. Knowing her, she'd probably used her bare hands.

He hated to admit to himself that he actually missed her. He just hoped whatever bad mojo had occurred between her and Michael would end soon.

Mission accomplished. He was in and out of her place with the weapons he needed in a matter of ten minutes.

Sam was getting worried. He had tried calling Michael, but Michael also was not picking up. He knew that Michael was on his way to the Dolphin Mall to investigate the origin of the phone call.

Sam had completed his assignment, so maybe he'll do a follow up by finding out what happened to Michael. And, hey, if Michael is still there and wants to treat Sam to something at the food court, who was he to stop him?

Sam had arrived at Dolphin Mall.

Nothing was more Americana than the great American mall. Every large city in every state contained one of these shopping empires. Between the quintessential anchor stores and beneath the excessively lit ceilings laid out a vast number of novelty stores, clothing shops and food stands.

Sam took an escalator up, past a row of shops, until he reached an area lined with a series of plastic garden plants—an indication that he had reached the food court. It was fairly empty during the late afternoon.

He past the multi-cultural food eateries until he reached the five public phones located at the outskirts of the food area. Picking up the second phone, he punched in the number his contact at the phone company had given him. The fourth phone started ringing immediately.

So now he knew for sure the kidnapper had been here.

Now he needed to find out if Ruth had actually been here with the kidnapper, screaming into a public phone.

Sam looked around. Only one food stand had a clear view of the phone, _Sally's Hot Dogs on a Stick_. Sam approached the counter. There were two teen-aged boys working behind the counter.

"Excuse me," asked Sam, "which one of you is Sally?

No smiles.

"Huh? I don't get it," said the first one with a pimpled face.

"Beats me, you handle him," said the other one, before disappearing to the back, leaving Zit-face with Sam .

Sam thought he'd order some lemonade to maybe get the kid talking. After the transaction, Sam attempted to get some info out of the employee.

"Say, have you seen a suspicious looking man using that pay phone over across that way in the last two hours?" Sam pointed to the row of phones.

"_You_ look pretty suspicious to me." the kid sounded snarky.

Smart mouth, Sam thought, now understanding why people showed irritation with _his_ wise cracks. Not that it would get him to stop.

Sam was forced to put on his serious face.

"Look, without dealing with specifics, this is a life and death situation here. I don't have a lot of time here. I just need to know if you saw anyone using that phone."

"You a cop or something? 'Cuz you sound like one...but you don't dress like one."

Sam let out a frustrated sigh.

"Do I look like I'm here for a police fashion show, kid? Just answer the question, _alright_?"

Zit-faace looked at Sam and decided he didn't like Sam.

"You've ordered your damn drink. So go now, okay?" The kid started to turn away to do other work.

Tsk, tsk, thought Sam. Today's youth needed to learn manners. Sam took out a photo from the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt.

_SLAM!_

The noise startled the kid when Sam slammed a picture of Ruth on the counter. Zit-face turned back around with a deer-in-the-headlights look.

"Name's Detective Charles Finley," introduced Sam.

The kid glanced at the photo.

"_Her name is Charles Finley_?" he asked, looking up from the picture.

Sam rolled his eyes. That's why kids should stay in school.

"That's_ my _name_!_ So, have you seen this woman around or not?"

Zit-face didn't even bother to take a good look.

"No. And I gotta get back to my work."

Sam leaned in, "Listen kid, you better cooperate. As a detective, I can make your life a living hell. For example, I have the authority to make you empty your pockets. Anytime. In my world, kids and drugs seem to go hand-in-hand."

The kid stepped back with opened hands held out to his sides.

"Hey! I'm clean! I don't even _use_ drugs!" he insisted.

Sam leaned in and spoke in a hushed tone.

"Oh yeah? _Then I'll plant some on you._"

"W-what?" the kid thought he heard wrong as he looked around for help, "Hey! Y-you c-can't do that!..._Can you_?"

"Sure I can. Let's just say I have the highest juvenile arrest rate in the county! So I am going to ask you one more time before I accidentally find some stash on you," warned Sam.

"Yeah...yeah..._okay,_" the kid was going to sing like a bratty bird, "T-there was this big muscled guy...with a ponytail using the phone. Dude was an electronic whiz with...this...contraption strapped to the speaker of the phone."

_(The voice -altering machine, Sam thought)_

"Go on," said Sam.

"and that's it," the kid was not cooperating again.

Sam leaned in, "Look, I know you've probably tried alcohol before..."

The kid's eyes opened wide and Sam knew he hit a homerun.

"What do you mean, detective?" Zit-face was on the defensive, "Uh, I don't drink, I'm too young."

"It'll look like you do, kid, after I search your backpack and find the evidence."

"What evidence? I don't have- Wait! Uh...Let me think!" Zit-face looked nervous,"Yeah, so I saw him bringing up this...this other gadget up to the speaker and I heard a high pitch sound. Then this other guy came to check up on him."

_(So they had made a recording of Ruth screaming. Clever.)_

Sam scowled at the kid's additional remark, "Another guy? Did he have a tattoo on his neck?"

"No..." the kid shook his head, "The guy was a mall cop. I swear... that's all I know!"

So that proved it. Two guys had made the call but Ruth had not been actually here. But it also meant she was still in trouble.

"Okay, thanks," said Sam as he walked away.

"Hey! Wait! You never showed me your badge!" the kid remembered.

Sam came back and leaned in, "I don't know how you're going to explain that first DUI on your record, either..."

Zit-face held up his hands to block, "No! Stop! Please, forget I asked! Sorry and h-have a nice day!"

When Sam turned around he had a hidden smile on his face. He started to walk away but didn't get very far when he heard a voice to the side of him.

"That's far enough."

Sam turned and was confronted with a mall cop. Or, rather, _the_ mall cop. The mall cop was tall with a thick mustache that made him look like Tom Selleck. If Tom Selleck was ugly, that is. Hold on. Could this be "Mustache", the guy Michael had encountered earlier on the rooftop of the zoo?

"Take a seat right there and explain to me why you are hassling the employees at this mall?" Ugly-Tom commented gruffly.

Sam casually took a nearby seat at the food court table. "Can't imagine what you are referring to. I'm just a typical mall shopper. Heard they were having a corn dog special."

"Smart ass, huh? Well, I've been watching you." revealed Ugly-Tom, as he sat right next to Sam so he could speak to him in a low voice,"_I don't know who you are, but you know something_."

Sam looked stunned, "Uh...Could you be _more_ vague, please?"

Ugly-Tom looked slightly perturbed, "Shut up with that and tell me what you know about those phone calls."

"How am I suppose to shut up _and_ tell you something at the same time unless I am a ventriloquist? Do you want to sit on my lap and be the dummy?"

Now Ugly-Tom was losing patience. He reached over and shoved a nightstick under the table at Sam's stomach.

"Am I being specific enough _now_?" he asked. He used his other hand to point to his mall enforcement patch, "I could bring you in for harassing a mall employee if you don't cooperate," he grunted.

Sam spoke loudly, "You mean with the corn dog kid? Okay, I admit it! I was unreasonable because I wanted more sugar in my lemonade!"

A few shoppers turned in their direction at the commotion. Ugly Tom had no choice but to bring his baton back down.

"_Shut-up, you_!" he threatened, "You know I am talking about you asking about the guy making the phone calls!"

Sam remained seated. With all the needling he did with this mall cop, he now knew Vespi had a mall employee in his pocket, which is why Ponytail could make calls from here. _A mall cop in his pocket?_ Geez, this Vespi must be some small- time mobster! More like mini-me mobster.

"This is a free country!" announced Sam even louder, "If I want three packets of sugar, I have that right!"

"Okay, that's it." Now Ugly-Tom was mad. From under the table, Ugly-Tom rammed the baton as hard as he could into Sam's middle before quickly removing it while nonchalantly looking around the mall.

_Ooomph!_ This time, it hurt.

"Please," begged Sam, "I want lemonade, not first aid."

"Get the hell up! We're leaving! And w_hen we are alone, I am going to make you tell me everything_, " Ugly-Tom whispered-promised, "I'll be ramming this stick straight up to your balls!"

Ugly-Tom grabbed Sam's arm, meaning to yank him up. Sam stayed seated and stared at Ugly-Tom. Then Sam slightly coughed.

_Cough._

That turned into a series of coughs.

_Cough! Cough! Cough! Cough!_

It was as if Sam couldn't stop. Then he couldn't breathe.

_Gasp. Gasp!_

Some looky-loo shoppers stopped and peered over, with concerned looks on their faces.

Tom leaned in and whispered angrily, "_Stop f*cking around with all that fakeness!_"

Sam went into convulsions. His eyes rolled back to the back of his head.

_Heave, heave...heave..._

He put both hands on to his neck, looking as if he was struggling with himself. Ugly-Tom broke out in a sweat.

_"Stop it, you f*cker!" _he uselessly threatened, looking anxiously about.

Some people started running to Sam. "Sir, are you alright?' "What wrong?" "He needs air!"

"Can't breathe!" Sam gasped, 'I... need... my medicine!"

One of the mall customers turned to Ugly-Tom, "Do something! You're security!"

Sam unsteadily took out from his pocket his pill box, containing three Flintstones chew-able vitamins, "My heart medicine!"

Ugly-Tom looked nervously about as more people joined in.

A small circle had surrounded Sam. "Give him room!" "Lean over!" "Cough it out!" "Somebody get him some water!"

Sam was handed a cup of water, but before Sam could take it, he started on another round.

_Cough! Cough! gasp! heave!_

Sam's hand was shaking as he took his chewables. Ugly- Tom looked around at all the people and then disgustedly gave Sam one last look before he casually walked away from the hullabaloo.

"Hey! Did you see that? This was an emergency and the mall cop just walked away!" someone shouted.

Sam pretended to take a deep breath before speaking.

"Earlier, he...refused..._(heave)_ to give me..._wa-ter_," Sam choked out the words.

"Why, that's heartless! Get his name! He endangered someone's life!" someone else shouted.

'I'll get that jerk's name!" Another customer said as he ran after the mall cop down the mall hallway.

_Heave. Heave... Heave..._

Slowly the hacking noises subsided.

_Gasp..._

"I'm okay, (_cough_) I'm okay," insisted Sam, after a while. "Thank you, everyone."

After they were assured Sam was alright, the crowd slowly dispersed. The one customer that had followed Ugly-Tom came back and reported to Sam not to worry- he had filed a complaint regarding that mall cop, who probably won't have a job to return to tomorrow.

Ten minutes later, Sam was all alone again as he sat back and leisurely enjoyed his lemonade.

Robert DeNiro, _eat your heart out_, Sam thought as he raised a glass to himself.

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Please review.


	18. Chapter 18

Souper-stars

Chapter 18

The white van rambled inconspicuously down the highway. In the back Michael and Fi were being held in captivity. But at least they were now on speaking terms.

Upfront Sid Bailey and Boulder man could not get to their destination fast enough. They just wanted to dump their two cargo "packages", get paid, and leave.

Sid Bailey, however, was more angry than impatient. His plan to skip town had been delayed due to Vespi wanting him to pick up Westen's older interfering brother. So not only did Bailey have to deal with this damn kidnapping, his prized bike had been torched, and he had almost gotten killed today!

At least he got that B*tchy Bounty Hunter safely locked down. Man, she was a scary one! Face of an angel, actions of the damn devil.

All this stress was making Bailey in a very bad mood.

The van continued down the highway. As usual Smitty, the driver, was just yapping away. Bailey guffawed, thinking Smitty was such a pea-brain.

Out of the blue, Smitty pulled the van over to the side of the highway.

"Smitty, What the hell? You gotta take a leak or something?" Bailey asked.

"Weren't you listening to what I was telling you, Bailey? Looks like a stranded motorist up a ways," Smitty commented, pointing ahead.

"Sh*t, Smitty! " complained Bailey, "We have no time to be some kind of goddamn Good Samaritans!"

"You'll change your tune once you take a gander at who the motorists is," said Smitty as he again pointed outward.

Bailey looked straight ahead, his mood lightening up a bit.

"Well, I'll be a f*cking monkey's uncle... " said Bailey, half to himself, as he looked out the windshield.

Stranded on the side of the road was none other than Vespi's beautiful ex, Elizabeth. She obviously had car troubles, as she leaned up against her vehicle, her arms folded.

"I'd recognize Mario's ex anywhere," noted Smitty, "Dang, she's always been so hot! Maybe we should help her!"

"Could be some kind of a trap…" Bailey stated with uncertainty.

"…or it could just be our lucky day, Bailey! Just think how Vespi would reward us if we brought back his sweet woman to him!"

Images of accolades flashed across Bailey's mind.

"_May-be…_" contemplated Bailey.

"And, you know, Bailey, since we don't have another set of handcuffs, she'll just have to sit in the front seat with _us_!"

Bailey liked _that_ idea a lot.

"I like the way you think!" sneered Bailey, "Some slap and tickle might be fun!"

Smitty chuckled.

Before he exited the car, Bailey took out his gun. He wasn't taking any chances. Opening the door of the van, he walked down the strip of road towards Elizabeth's supposedly disabled car.

Elizabeth turned as Bailey approached. From her expression, it was obvious she recognized him. Her eyes traveled down to the gun he was holding and she nervously straightened up and unfolded her arms, watching him warily.

_Tish-tiss _Tish-tiss__

The rustling sounds coming from the nearby bushes made both of them turn in that direction.

Bailey silently indicated for Smitty to go check out the unidentified noise. Smitty nodded and moved towards the bushes, his knife held up defensively.

Once Smitty was gone, Bailey focused his attention back on Elizabeth.

"Remember me, Liz? 'Cuz, honey, I sure do remember you!"

"Bailey…" said Elizabeth, trying to hide her aversion, "Y-you're the last person I expected... I think...maybe you should leave. The tow truck should be here any minute."

"Uh-uh, little girl," he shook his head, still aiming his weapon, "You're coming with us. I'm sure Mario will be _very_ happy to see you!"

_THUMP!_  
>The sound came from the bushes, followed by a loud groan.<p>

Bailey's expression turned to one of apprehension as he turned his head towards the sound.

"Smitty! _Hey Smitty!_ _You okay over there?_" yelled Bailey into the bushes.

No answer.

There was a slight movement, followed by a different voice bellowing, "Freeze! Drop you weapon!"

It was Nate, of course. After taking out Smitty by whacking him in the back of the head with the bundled bag of soup cans, Nate had managed to sneak closer to Bailey and Elizabeth by staying hidden behind the van.

"Where the f*ck are you?" Bailey bellowed as he looked all around, turning his gun this way and that.

Still, Nate did not make an appearance and there could only be one reason for that. Elizabeth could see from Bailey's expression that he knew why, too.

Nate did not possess a weapon.

So Bailey figured the best thing to do now was to force Elizabeth in the van and leave. Without Smitty, he alone could collect all the money for bringing in the three captives. This was turning out better than he had originally imagined, he thought.

He aimed his gun at Elizabeth once more and gestured with his head towards the van, "Let's go, _now_!"

"_You'll not take her!_"

Nate's legs were like two pistons as he popped out from behind the van and sped towards Bailey, while holding onto the bag of soup cans.

But no matter how fast he ran, Bailey knew Nate could not outrun a speeding bullet. Bailey raised his gun at Nate.

"Nooooo!" screamed Elizabeth.

Bailey fired.

BANG!

Fortunately, Elizabeth had shoved Bailey from behind at the same time he had fired, throwing off Bailey's firing line. Bailey angrily whipped his gun back at Elizabeth, who cowered in terror.

_"Goddamn you!"_

Bailey's bad mood was back. He was sick and tired of this whole situation. The way he was feeling now, this troublesome B*tch wasn't worth taking back to Vespi.

Nate was still running and knew he would not reach Bailey in time if Bailey were to shoot Elizabeth. He immediately dropped the bag of soup cans, to lighten his load.

Using his legs as a springboard, Nate made a flying leap onto Bailey's back.

Caught by surprise, Bailey twirled wildly about, trying to force Nate off, but Nate held on as if his life depended on it. Because it did.

Nate's instinctively grabbed on to anything to stay on the backside of Bailey. That meant putting one hand around Bailey's upper body while his other hand successfully grabbed for the gun, tossing it wildly into the bushes.

"Get off..._damn it!_" suffered Bailey, "...Aacchhhh!"

Nate had attacked Bailey's face, specifically his nose. Bailey gave a cry of pain as Nate started pulling up on the nose, making Bailey's head tilt back. Bailey tried to reach back to hit or grab at Nate.

Nate could not hold on much longer.

"Lizzie...the souper bag! ..." Nate spurted out, as he was continually being spun around.

Lizzie picked up the tied-up bag, "Got it!"

" _Hit..him_..." Nate's words sounded erratic as he was being jostled about, "Hit him...in...** his cream of broccoli!**"

Bailey gave one huge jerk and finally managed to toss Nate off his back like a bucking bronco.

_THUD!_

Nate landed hard.

Elizabeth went into action.

She swung around the bag of soup cans around her body to gain momentum. Then when Bailey threateningly came towards her, she pitched the bag forward with all her might.

__THWOMP!__

It flew a short distance before it landed smack in the heart of his groin area.

"Yeowwwww!" Bailey wailed as he hunched over and covered that area with both his hands.

"Yeah! His broccoli has been_ creamed!_" yelled Nate, now recovered from the ground.

Nate took possession of the bag of soup cans. The bag made its usual plastic-y sound as he swung solidly, aiming this time for the side of Bailey's head.

_POW!_

His aim was excellent as Bailey was knocked down and out to the ground. Nate bent down at the stilled body and retrieved the key to the handcuffs from Bailey's pocket.

_SLAM!_

From a distance they heard a vehicle door slamming shut. Nate and Elizabeth turned their heads towards the sound. Bailey's partner, Smitty, was trying to make a quick getaway in the van.

"Nate!" yelled Elizabeth pointing, "He's getting away in the van... with Michael and Fi still locked up in the back!"

Nate started moving, but he wasn't headed towards the driver side of the van.

"Don't worry, Lizzie!" Nate turned his head to yell back to her, "While I was waiting behind the van, I poured a whole can of soup broth in his gas tank!"

Nate then rushed to the back of the van.

Inside the cab of the van, Smitty had turned the key in the ignition. The engine made a meek little sound before it sputtered and died. Looking surprised and frustrated, Baseball Cap tried again with the same results. He started to panic. He attempted again as he broke out in a huge wad of sweat.

In no time, from the back of the van, Michael and Fi emerged and jumped down to the ground.

Michael raced to the driver's side, flung open the door and spotted Smitty, still trying in vain to start the van. In a instant, Michael had reached in, punched Smitty in the head, and yanked him out of the vehicle.

Smitty was still struggling as Michael stood behind him and held him firmly by his arms.

"My turn," Fi announced.

Smitty looked away from Fi, knowing she was about to punch him. But he had miscalculated Fi's objective. She was not going for the head.

Fiona gave a hard sidekick to his unsuspecting leg. Smitty bellowed out at the excruciating pain.

"Oowww! My leg!" he yelled in agony.

"You mean your _left_ tibia," explained Fi, "So I guess that makes you and Bailey, 'brothers from different mothers.'"

Michael and Nate gathered up both thugs and handcuffed them together with the same handcuffs that had previously been used on Michael and Fi. Then Michael handcuffed them to the handle of the van's door.

"Nate, you did a brave thing. Thank you. " said a grateful Michael as he checked the handcuffed enclosures while the two thugs complained incessantly.

"Lizzie was a _big_ help!" Nate insisted. He was ready to tell the whole story when he noticed that Michael was no longer paying attention to what he was saying.

"..Uh..Michael?"

Nate turned to see what had captured Michael's attention.

Fi and Elizabeth were facing one another. Unaware of any danger, Elizabeth had started to introduce herself. She casually held out her hand towards Fi.

"Hello, You must be Fi. I'm Elizabeth."

When the cordial greeting was not returned, Elizabeth awkwardly put her hand back down to her side. Fi was eyeing her with a look that could have bored holes through titanium.

Michael felt his blood stop as the air was filled with trepidation.

The breeze had died down. In the bushes, crickets had stopped chirping. From up above, birds took flight from the trees. And...did Michael imagine it or did a lone car, coming down the highway, suddenly make a u-turn?

"E-li-za-beth." Fi's voice was monotone and cold. Her mouth didn't even seem to move as she uttered Elizabeth's name in a tone that would have frozen molten lava.

Elizabeth's eyes got very large.

Nate leaned over and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "_Hide, Lizzie, Hide._.."

Lizzie nervously shuffled behind Nate.

Now it was Nate's turn to have the big eyes as he murmured assertively.

_"Hide** elsewhere**, Lizzie...elsewhere..."_

But Elizabeth, instead, grabbed on for dear life to the back of Nate's shirt.

Nate shut his eyes and prayed for his soul.

Silence ensured, but not the calm type.

It was the kind of quietness that occurred before a bomb explodes.

A truly accurate description, in fact.

Spies know that in order for an explosive to ignite, an unstable material is required. At the slightest nudge, it will release a powerful, destructive energy into the air, creating turmoil everywhere.

And Fi was ready to detonate.

One word came to Michael's mind if he didn't do something to stop Fi.

Armageddon.

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_**Please review**_

_(I am not done with the soup cans. They make a major appearance next chapter!)_


	19. Chapter 19

Souper love

Chapter 19

Michael, Fi, Nate and the captured goons were still at the side of the lonely highway.

Michael had gone from one dangerous situation of escaping and capturing the thugs, into another bad situation of dealing with Fi's reaction to seeing Elizabeth. Personally, Michael would prefer dealing with the bad guys.

Deep breaths, Michael told himself.

…"Er…are introductions n-necessary?" Nate tried to sound casual, as Elizabeth peered around his back for a quick look at Fi, "If so, Elizabeth, you will have to come out of hiding."

"I've seen enough of her," responded Fi, coldly, as an eerie stillness permeated the air.

Michael's heart pounded in deep thuds as he looked down at Fi's hand and saw it beginning to curl into a fist. He had to react before Fi's uncontrollable hot-headedness surfaced.

Everything happened so fast.

Fi moved forward just as Michael moved behind her. He quickly encircled his arms around her entire body and lifted her off the ground. Her arms were locked down, but she was moving her legs frantically as he brought her down on the other side away from Elizabeth. Obviously, she was not happy with the manipulation.

"_No, Michael! Noooo! _" she disapprovingly complained, her anger reflected in her movements.

She attempted to break free, but Michael held firm. He didn't want to do this to Fi, but he had no choice if he wanted to avoid a physical confrontation. Michael conjured up images of what Fi could do to Elizabeth and that helped to assure him he was doing the right thing.

"Nate!" Michael reacted, "Quick! Give Elizabeth the key to the sedan! _Now!_"

Nate passed the key quickly behind him as Elizabeth snatched it from him. The act was much like what a 4 x 4 relay team did with a baton. It only took a fraction of a second.

"Get to the car, Lizzie!" yelled Nate, "Run like the wind!"

Elizabeth was all antelope legs as she bolted towards the car. It was a bit of a distance down the road. When she reached the car, Elizabeth's hand shook as she tried to get the key in the lock. Looking agitatedly back, she saw Fi struggling against Michael.

_"Michael, let go of me!" _Fi was heard bellowing.

Fi was using up valuable energy against Michael's strong body. Finally she seemed to tire as her struggling lessened. Michael slightly loosened his hold on her, for his arms were also getting weary.

With her foot, Fi kicked backwards as hard as she could, digging her heel precisely into Michael's shin.

_Oooowww!_

He unwittingly released her, and Fi made a dash to Elizabeth and the car. By now, a shaky Elizabeth had managed to get the car door opened. She jumped in, shutting and locking the door.

Michael knew that once Fi reached the car, she would throw her entire body at the car, whether it was moving or not.

A determined Fi was a dangerous Fi.

He had to do something to ensure Elizabeth's escape and keep Fiona away from a moving car as well.

Looking around, Michael grabbed the bag of soup cans which had been laying nearby.

"Help me out, Nate!" he yelled, handing Nate a can.

Nate looked shocked as he took the can. "Y-you want to throw soup cans at Fiona?"

Michael gave Nate a look as if that was the most ridiculous question Nate had ever asked, which it probably was.

Instead Michael, with a can in his hand, began _rolling_ it hurriedly in Fi's direction. Nate followed Michael's lead, also rolling his soup can towards Fi.

Both of them were like bowlers, aiming for the pins down the bowling alley. Except they were bowling for one pin named Fiona Glenanne.

_CHUKA-FUNG-CHUKA-FUNG..._

The rotating tin cans made a straight pathway towards an unsuspecting, rushing Fi.

The first cans had reached its intended mark.

_CHUK._

This was quickly followed by the second one, as it slammed into the first one before both bashed up against the back of Fi's heel.

_CHUK. CHUK._

"What the hell?" Fi paused, glancing down at the twin cans before looking over at Michael and Nate. They were standing side by side, each looking innocuously casual. She determinedly rushed off again.

"_Nate_..." Michael, whispered covertly as he handed Nate an armful of soup cans.

"_Hey, this is kinda fun!"_ whispered back Nate, accepting the cans.

A whole multitude of rolling soup cans quickly followed the pathway of the original two.

CHUKA-FUNG-CHUKA-FUNG-CHUKA-FUNG...CHUKA-FUNG-CHUKA-FUNG-CHUKA-FUNG...

From behind her, the soup cans rambled and tumbled. They reached her in no time, rocking and rolling underneath her, keeping her unbalanced.

CHUKA-FUNG-CHUKA-FUNG-CHUKA-FUNG...CHUKA-FUNG-CHUKA-FUNG-CHUKA-FUNG...

Fi had to fight to maintain her equilibrium. She let loose a string of cuss words which would make a convicted criminal blush.

Meanwhile Elizabeth had enough time to start the car and shifted into drive.

__SCREEECH! __

By the time Fi was able to get her footing again, all Fi saw was the back of the green sedan's taillights, as it raced down the highway.

"_Noooooooo!_" she yelled, as Michael and Nate ran up to her. She whipped around to face them.

_**"Mi-chael!**_ How could you do this to me?_ "_

"Fi...listen..."

_"No! Michael, not this time! Look at me! There are **soup cans** pooling around my feet!"_

They looked down at the numerous soup cans hovering around her ankles.

Michael reached out to hold her, but she put up her hands in a don't-you-dare gesture. Then Fi picked up one of the cans from the ground and her eyes flashed as she looked at him.

"No, Fi. Being snow-globed was enough!" warned Michael, "_ I refuse to be soup-canned_!"

Nate looked from Michael to Fi. His brother and Fi had such a strange relationship.

"And _you!_" said Fi now directing her anger at Nate, "Wait until I get my snow globes on _you_!"

Nate, now confident in his bowling skills, had gathered some courage on his own.

"You can't bully me, Fiona!" Nate challenged, "Your snow globes are no match for my soup cans!"

Cut-away to the two thugs who had been handcuffed together to the door of the van.

"Hey Bailey!" asked a puzzled Smitty, "Turns out the crazy B*tch is the normal one in the group after all!"

"Sssshh!" Bailey said, entranced, "Just watch the show!"

With the soup can in her hand, Fi brought her arm back, as if she was about to throw it. Michael put both his hands out in a stop motion.

"Fi, I've said it before... this is a problem in our relationship... _you cannot control your temper!"_

_"I can control my temper just like I can control my pitching arm!"_

A spy is like a tea bag. He only knows his strength when he is put in hot water.

"But, Fi! This is not the way people_ in love_ act!"

A pause from her as the words sunk in.

"What?..in _love_?" she asked meekly, stopping mid-pitch.

T-That's right, Fi! I could have _thrown_ the soup cans at you, right? But instead I _rolled_ them...so shouldn't that act of love count for _something?_"

Fi's expression softened a bit.

Keep talking, Michael analyzed.

".A-And, Fi, look at this..."

Using his arm to reach the bottom of the souper bag, Michael retrieved a super-sized soup can. As he held up the larger-sized can for her to see, his voice was soft and tender.

"...I could have chosen to roll this _family-size can_ at you, right, Fi? But, _no_... _never. _Never would I do that to the person I love..."

The atmosphere was so quiet that Michael could actually hear the various soup cans rolling about Fi's feet.

"Awww, Mi-_chael." _Fi was truly touched.

From off in the sidelines, Baseball cap man turned to Bailey.

"Who knew _soup cans_ were like giving a dozen roses?" commented Smitty.

Bailey shook his head in bafflement at what he just witnessed, "_Worst love story** ever.**_"

Fi looked at the soup can in her hand. He could almost see the varied options running through her mind.

Bending down, she lightly placed the can in an upright position on the floor.

Was this an act of surrender? From Fi?

Then with all her might and concentration, she slowly brought her leg up and decisively stomped her foot down, dead center, on the lone soup can.

The effective force caused the can to flatten as the liquidy tomato soup burst through the thin tin. All her frustrations were released as she stomped on it again and again until it was almost as flat as a CD. The soup substance oozed out, saturating the area around the compressed can.

"Yuck." Was all Nate could say.

"Ugh," said Smitty.

"Eewww," said Bailey, who turned away.

After looking down at the debasement of the soup can, Fi looked at Michael and Nate with a satisfied expression on her face.

"I feel better now, Michael. I have taken out my frustrations."

Michael looked at her as if he didn't quite believe it, "Fi, are you sure?"

"Of course, Michael."

Both men looked incredulously at Fi's 180 degree turnaround.

"Fi," said Michael, "Are you SURE you are okay with everything?" He looked down at the flattened soup can.

"I'm fine. People _in love_ can maintain control, right? Do I look in control to you? Yes? So let's discuss how we plan to get Ruthie back…" Fi crossed her arms and looked expectedly at both Michael and Nate.

"Before we go any further, Fi, I want it understood that you will act composed in front of Elizabeth. Do I make myself clear?" Michael asked, expecting a slap in the face or a kick in the groin.

Fi looked right at Michael, "I can do that, for I am in control."

She reminded him of the quiet before the storm.

"If you can do that and really mean it, I have one more thing I need to ask of you..." Michael announced.

Michael's best chance for success was to strike now, when she had love on her mind. Risky, but he was taking charge of the situation.

This was necessary if he and Fi were to have any chance for the future.

"You are pushing it, but you have one more minute." challenged Fi.

Michael rushed the words.

"I have a plan to get Ruth back, but I need you to show restraint. This is because part of this plan is for you to work alongside Elizabeth. And you will do so without harming her whatsoever."

This time both Nate and Fi stared in astonishment at Michael.

Even Bailey and Smitty were reacting with a shocked look, with Bailey shaking his head vigorously at Michael.

"Michael, I will _not_-" Fi began.

"Fi!.." repeated Michael, "_No harm to Elizabeth._.."

"Does a slap count as a 'harm'?" asked Fi seriously.

"Yes," said Michael, "as well as a 'hit, box, chop, crack, slam, poke, strike, wallop, punch, wham and swat.'"

Fi shrugged nonchalantly.

"You didn't mention 'bang' and 'smash,'" she claimed.

"_Fi._.." warned Michael.

Fi crossed her arms impatiently.

"Alright. _ Al-right._"

"We are going to work a con," explained Michael, "for if there's one thing a man cannot resist is a beautiful woman. Therefore we will present _two_ beautiful women to him. Interested, Fi?"

"Who's the mark?" she asked.

Her mind was back on the job. A good sign.

"A man by the name of Alfonso Aldo," Michael said, glad he had done the research earlier.

He could see Fi warring with both sides.

"Come on, Fi!" Nate was baiting her, "An opportunity to work _alongside_ Elizabeth! This will be the ultimate challenge for you, right?"

Brilliant, Nate, thought Michael. If there's one thing Fi loves, is a challenge.

Michael mentally crossed his fingers. He knew he was taking a big chance. But if he and Fi were going to stay together, she needed to learn to control her feelings and learn to trust him.

Fi wanted to make sure she understood the parameters.

"So, with Elizabeth, no fists, no guns, no bombs?"

Correct," verified Michael.

Both Michael and Nate held their breaths.

"A-Agreed." she relented reluctantly, "but Michael, this is not over, by any means."

"Fi," said Michael, happy with her decision, "I knew that if push came to shove, you would come through!"

"Which reminds me...what about a "push" or a "shove"?" Fi asked in a hopeful manner.

Fi, oh, Fi.

Bailey and Smitty had watched everything unfold from where they were locked up.

"_Damn,_ Bailey," whispered Smitty as he leaned over, "What just happened?'

"Beats me," replied Bailey in a low tone, "Let's just put it this way..if that is how the crazy b*tch acts with her _cohorts_, can you imagine what she would do to _us_ if we didn't do as she said?"

"W-we'd be like that squashed soup can over there."

Fear shown in their eyes as both men got a good look at the flattened can.

Meanwhile, Michael let out his breath over the entire situation.

Armageddon avoided. World War III? Too early to say.

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_Please review._


	20. Chapter 20

Elizabeth and spy life

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Chapter 20

Since zooming away from the souper highway in her green sedan, Elizabeth's head was just spinning. Michael had finished talking to her on her cell phone, giving precise details regarding the first phase of their con.

Then Sam called from the mall, wondering why the hell no one was picking up his or her phone. Although Elizabeth did not know exactly what had occurred on the highway after she left, she did tell him about the capture of the two thugs and Michael, Fi and Nate being fine.

Last, Fi had left a terse message on her phone: "I'm on my way."

Spies are used to a life of constant updates, strategies and actions. But for an average person, it can be a bit overwhelming.

Elizabeth's brows furrowed together over Michael's call. She had told him she would do anything to get Ruthie back, but when he asked for her to work alongside Fi, Elizabeth thought she had heard wrong. Yet here she was, waiting at her motel room for Fi's arrival.

Her part in the plan, as she understood it, was she and Fi were to go to a nearby bar to flirt with a man named Alfonso Aldo. That would be the extent of her involvement. Fi would take it from there.

The last time Elizabeth had seen Fi, that woman looked ready to explode all over her. And yet Elizabeth was suppose to trust Michael when he promised there would be no trouble from her. Elizabeth wasn't sure she would make it out in one piece.

There was a knock on the motel door.

Fi had arrived. Nervously, Elizabeth straightened her hair and clothes before walking to the door.

"Fi?" She opened the door tentatively, expecting Fi to be standing there.

She should have looked out the motel window before opening the door. Too late.

"Oh my God! AaaeeeEE!"

She screamed as she recognized the unwelcomed male figure with the buzz cut. He was Roger, one of Vespi's many hired thugs. Of all of Vespi's men, Roger creeped Elizabeth out the most.

Elizabeth rushed to shut the door. Ineffective. A foot stuck out in the gap of the opened door. Pushing with all her weight could not hold him back.

The door exploded as Buzz-cut/Roger forced his way in. He shut the door, with just the two of them in the room. Elizabeth looked repulsively at him as she began to back up.

"Roger!..Y-You should NOT be here!" Elizabeth warned, "I'm... expecting someone!"

Roger smirked.

"Now, Liz, is that any way to greet an old friend?" Roger's tone sounded as disturbing as ever, "And shame on you for thinking I'd fall for the _I- am- expecting -someone_ crap!"

Elizabeth tried not to show how really scared she was, "It's true!"

"Yeah, well..." said Roger, taking a couple of steps forward, "We'll be long gone before anyone shows up. I'm here to take you to Vespi. He misses you and that ledger of his; not necessarily in that order. So, sweetcakes, which way will you leave with me? The easy way or the hard way?"

"I'm not going with you anywhere! _Get out of here!_"

Elizabeth turned around and ran for the phone. As she lifted the receiver, she could feel Roger's presence behind her. Just as she pressed the last '1' in '911', she felt the phone being yanked from her hand, as he flung it to the ground.

She shakily turned to face him.

""I guess it's the hard way, eh?" he asked with an evil smile.

Her eyes widened when she saw a fist heading towards her face.

"Nooooooo!"

She had no time to react. His fist hit the side of her head. Dizziness and pain seared through her skull. It was enough to knock her to her knees. Tears surfaced. She had never been so scared in her life.

"No! No! Please!" She raised her arms in front of her.

Roger stood over her. With the back of his hand, he violently slapped her hard against the side of her face, leaving a ring cut on her cheek. More tears, more pleading.

It did no good. His fingers reached down and roughly closed around the front of her blouse to bring her back up towards him. As Elizabeth tried to pull away, the thin material of her top ripped, revealing her bra and bare skin.

"Well, now," he sneered, gazing at her revealed cleavage, "that's more like it!"

"Roger, _stop!"_ she struggled to get away, "or I-I'll tell Mario what you did to me!"

"Are you kidding, B*tch?" he said with certainty, "It'll be your word against mine! Now hold still!"

As he held onto her, he started to unfasten his belt. With one of his hands busy, she knew she had a chance. She balled up her hand, and using her knuckles, she slammed her fist into his groin. Roger's eyes bulged.

Elizabeth scrambled to her feet and headed for the door. She had almost reached it before he grabbed her by her hair and roughly yanked her back. She held on to her hair, yelling out in pain.

"Let go of me!" she cried out.

"_You b*tch!_" he screamed angrily at her.

He threw her on the ground, straddled her and put one hand around her throat. Elizabeth was finding it hard to breathe and started gagging. She was slowly losing consciousness. With his other hand, he reached for her skirt as she weakly tried to slap his hand away.

Suddenly the door burst opened.

_BANG!_

A gun exloded. The bullet sliced through Roger's leg. Some of the sticky red mist sprayed on Elizabeth. Roger fell away from Elizabeth, as blood from his leg oozed out onto the floor.

With one arm, Elizabeth dragged her body away from him. She coughed and gasped, trying to get in as much air as possible, grateful to be breathing again.

Roger grabbed his leg to stop the blood flow. Fi walked up to him and callously kicked that very same leg. He bellowed loudly as more blood oozed out.

Still in agony, all Roger could think of now was the searing pain. His covered hand was now stained with the bright red liquid. His leg seemed to have a never ending flow of blood. Quickly he glanced up, begging with his eyes.

"Please..." he urged, "help me..."

Fi picked up the recently flung motel phone and tossed it right at the bloodied leg, eliciting more screams from Roger.

"Here's the help you've asked for," she volunteered.

Elizabeth covered the front of her blouse and ran behind Fi as Roger babbled on about his injured leg.

"Ahhh, owwww! Yeoooowwww!" Roger ranted in agony as he sat amidst the stains of red, smeared blood." Oh sweet Jesus! _Sh*t_! I _HATE_ women!"

"We don't think much of you, either," said Fi, bringing her gun down. She then gestured to Elizabeth, "Grab your things and let's get out of here."

Still trying to cover up, Elizabeth moved immediately. She didn't need to be told twice.

It did not take two long for the two women to depart.

.

Half an hour later, Sam was making a left turn into the lot of Elizabeth's motel. He decided to drop by since speaking with Elizabeth by phone. She had sounded so conflicted regarding working with Fi. He didn't blame her for there were times he felt that way about Fi, too.

As Sam pulled into the motel's parking lot, he was witness to the lights and noises from various emergency vehicles. Monopolizing the motel's parking lot was a fire truck, three police cars with blaring lights, and an ambulance van.

The paramedics had just finished loading a bundled figure into the back of the ambulance van, as Sam was driving up.

Uh-oh, thought Sam. Through his car's dashboard window, he gazed up towards the building and saw uniformed police officers swarming around the opened door of Elizabeth's motel room. He didn't want to believe it, but it was obvious what had happened.

_Fi could not keep her emotions intact and ended up shooting Elizabeth._

"Damn it, Fi," Sam cussed under his breath.

Sam's car didn't even seem to make a complete stop as he flew out of his vehicle. He ran up to the ambulance driver who had just shut the back doors. The other paramedic worker had already gone to the passenger side of the ambulance.

Sam quickly caught up with the driver as he started walking alongside his side of the vehicle.

"Hey! Excuse me! Mister Paramedics!" Sam rushed, "What happened here?"

"Victim shot in the leg," the paramedic driver summarized, as he checked off something on his clipboard. He continued walking.

Sam stayed beside him. He pictured Elizabeth shot and all alone in the back of the vehicle. As a civilian, she must be in hysterics.

"Look, let me ride along in the back... I know the gunshot victim!"

"Sorry," said the ambulance worker, a bit impatiently, "family members allowed in the back, only."

Sam was getting desperate. Elizabeth needed to see a familiar face.

"Er…I'm... the fiancé!" Sam burst out.

That got the paramedic's attention, "…Y_ou're_ the fiancé of the victim?"

His reaction offended Sam.

"Yeah. You've got a problem with that, Buddy?" challenged Sam, "Okay, so I'm not the young one nor the pretty one nor the...okay...I digress. But I assure you, it's true love!"

"Yeah?" the ambulance worker looked uncertain.

Sam nodded convincingly,"Believe me... We are totally committed to one another!"

The paramedic gave Sam a good look-over and sighed, "You're lucky that I am a hopeless romantic. You win_._I'll reunite you with the love of your life."

Sam secretly pumped his fist, pleased at his own cleverness. When they got to the back of the ambulance, the driver knocked before opening the back door.

"Hey, Tom!" the driver yelled to the young paramedic inside, "I'm sending in the fiancé here to ride to the hospital with us!"

Tom, who had been tending to the victim, gave Sam a quick glance, and then did a double take, "_This_ is the fiance? Okey-dokey. Whatever..."

"_What,_ you've got something against Hawaiian shirts?" Sam questioned, now getting perturbed.

Sam hopped up in the back and shortly after, the ambulance sped off, with its lights and sirens fully operating.

As Sam moved forward, he wondered, was it _really_ so farfetched that someone who looked like Elizabeth would be attracted to someone like h-

_Whoa._

Sam halted at the sound of masculine groans. Then he leaned over to view the patient.

_Double whoa._

Sam's eyes popped out at the sight of Buzz-cut, hooked up to an IV, writhing in pain.

Oo-_kay_, not quite the person he expected. In fact, not even the _gender_ he expected. Sam thought of informing the driver of the mix up, but up front the driver was wearing ear plugs to offset the siren noises.

Hmmm. Well, if Sam played his cards right, maybe wounded guy here could tell him the location of Vespi. Then this would not be a wasted ride.

The moaning interrupted Sam's thoughts. Tom was speaking gently to the injured victim, "Hang in there, okay? We're almost at the hospital." He patted the guy's arm as he continued, " And guess what? I have your fiancé here."

"My... f-fiancé?"

Buzz-cut/Roger had been slightly groggy due to the sedative they had given him. He heavily turned his head and when he saw Sam, he tried to looked around Sam for someone else. His eyes widened at the realization, as once again he focused back on Sam.

_"I don't know this guy!_" he exclaimed to Tom.

"Okay, ssshhh...relax.._relax_, " Tom assured Buzz-cut, "No need to get all upset. You need your rest."

Tom turned and peered over to Sam, who pretended to look stunned at the news.

"Just as I feared!" Sam stated to the paramedic in a low, seemingly-upset voice, "He has _amnesia!_I've seen this happen before when I was in combat!"

Tom the paramedic looked puzzled, "Amnesia?... But he didn't suffer a head injury, he was shot in the leg!"

"...And _what war_ did you serve in?" Sam demanded to know.

"No, I ... er...so...is the condition permanent?" inquired Tom.

"Hard to say," said Sam, "Medically, it's a condition known as post-traumatic _missa de limb amnesio_. In order to help restore his memory, I may have to ask him some bizarre questions that will totally baffle you. The oddball inquiry will help to jar his memory."

"If it'll help..." shrugged Tom.

"No, no, no!" insisted Buzz-cut.

Tom turned back to Buzz-cut, "...It's alright, it's nothing painful. You'll have your fiancé next to you...he is just going to ask you a few off-the-wall questions, okay?"

"But I-I'm telling you," insisted Buzz-cut, "He is not my..._Sh*t!_ I can't even say the word!"

Sam shook his head dismally at Tom. He spoke low, only to the paramedic.

"Did you hear that? He can't even _pronounce_ certain words! He's losing his speech capabilities!" Sam whispered, "We gotta work fast!"

"Hurry! Take my seat!" insisted Tom, as he quickly got up.

Sam took the seat and compassionately placed his rough hand over the victim's hairy hand. Judging by the patient's strong reaction, Paramedic Tom thought Hawaiian Shirt boyfriend better start asking the kooky questions fast because the injured guy was really losing it.

Buzz-cut's screaming was drowned out by the wailing sirens of the ambulance, as it careened through the main street.

Then Sam and his injured, amnesiac fiancé rode off into the beautiful sunset.

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_**Please review.**_


	21. Chapter 21

Girls Night Out

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Chapter 21

In another part of town, Alfonso Aldo was sitting at Teddy's Hideaway, a dive bar.

He came here weekly. The early evening was a perfect time to come, for only a few patrons were present. He liked the quiet solitude, plus the drinks served were stiff and strong. He came here to drink his problems away.

As he nursed his drink, one of his favorite Sinatra's song was playing in the background:

_Strangers in the night_

_exchanging glances_

_Wond'ring in the night_

_What were the chances..._

Alfonso Aldo closed his eyes as he was reminded of a different era, a simpler time.

Sinatra. 'Ol Blue-eyes. The Chairman of the Board. _Now, **that** was a singer_, reminisced Alfonso.

Meanwhile, across the room from Aldo, Fi and Elizabeth were lounging up at the bar. They both were wearing short, tight dresses and tall, stacked heels. Fi was seated, looking totally relaxed while Elizabeth was fidgeting with her dress.

"He's not noticing us! He's not looking our way!" worried Elizabeth in a low, emphatic tone, "Maybe, we're not his type!"

"Maybe what he needs," suggested Fi nonchalantly, "is an incentive to look our way."

"What do you m-"

"Sssh!" said Fi, as she nonchalantly looked around.

Fi's arm suddenly made a quick flipping movement. It had happened so quickly that Elizabeth only _heard_ something go through the air.

_CHA-BOOF._

They heard Aldo's stunned reaction from across the room.

"Ow!"

Elizabeth looked over and saw Aldo's hand rubbing the back of his head as he scanned the room.

Fi had accurately hit Aldo with ...something. Glancing about, Elizabeth noted the missing salt shaker from the bar. It was just here two minutes earlier.

"How did you-"

"_Head's up!_" whispered Fi, with the corner of her mouth, "_He's looking our way!_"

Still looking around the room while rubbing his head, Alfonso Aldo zeroed in on the two gorgeous broads seated up at the bar, giving him the one-over. One was brunette and the other was blonde. Man, those two were knockouts!

They returned his gaze. He lifted his drink to them. To his delight, both women returned the gallant gesture with a flirtatious smile.

_You've still got a way with the ladies, Aldo_, Alfonso thought, patting himself on the back. And why not? He had success written all over him. His tall carriage, his shiny suit, his polished shoes. He was proud of what he had accomplished. It had taken him many years, but he was now the #2 man in the Moretti crime family.

True, his face was jagged with age and his nose was crooked from too many beatings, but like Sinatra, he had the charm, baby, the charm.

With those two bombshells, Aldo felt he would make an exception to the rule of drinking alone.

Across the room Fi was thinking she disliked having to work with this... this hussy. She certainly could have slipped this mobster a 'mickey' on her own.

But she would show Michael she was in charge of her emotions.

With a final teasing look across the room, both women faced forward again, each readying themselves for the part they would soon play.

It would be easy for Fi, for she had used her sexual wiles many times to lure men into whatever situation Michael had worked out for them.

On the other hand, Elizabeth was nervous. This whole con job thing was going to be difficult for her. It was hard for her to feel alluring when she had just spent half an hour caking on a layer of makeup to hide her bruises.

This spy business thing was too crazy, too terrifying, she thought. So far, Elizabeth had been a involved in a deadly car chase, a shooting, and a personal assault. Now she was to be a co-conspirator in drugging a criminal with a woman who abhorred her. She looked at the woman who sat across from her, who hated her, yet had chosen to save her from harm.

"Thank you, again, Fi," humbled Elizabeth, "for what you did earlier."

Fi shrugged. Shooting a low-life Mafioso was easy. But maintaining control, now _that_ took work.

They took another sip of their drinks, each trying to adjust to the concept of working jointly together. Elizabeth had ordered a Long Island Iced Tea while Fi had ordered, appropriately, the Irish Car bomb. Both drinks were mixed strong; Elizabeth's with vodka and Fi's with whiskey. They would need it.

Fi's phone buzzed, informing her of a new text message. She scanned the contents, the corners of her mouth turning up into a slight smile.

At least the text seemed to brighten up Fi's mood.

"Some good news?" asked Elizabeth, hopeful.

"That was Sam," Fi kept it short, as she ended the text, "Seems he's discovered Vespi's new hideout."

Sam must be very good at what he does, Elizabeth thought, for Mario was very secretive when it came to the location of his operation.

"How was Sam able to obtain _that_ information?"

Did Fi just snort?

"Apparently, Sam has a fiancé." Fi simply replied.

Elizabeth looked puzzled.

Sampling her drink, Fi looked impassively at Elizabeth. She knew that Hussy was the type who used her looks to attract a man. But there are boundaries when it came to that game and Hussy needed to know she had just crossed the line with Michael.

Hussy should never have flirted until she knew whether Michael had someone first.

On the other hand, Fi figured, thug guy really walloped on Hussy. Her bruises attested to that fact. Karma works in mysterious ways.

But Fi wanted to teach Hussy a lesson, too, howbeit, on a smaller level. And she would do it without breaking her promise to Michael.

Fi looked intent as she rummaged through her purse. Elizabeth could not imagine what Fi was searching for and needed her drink to steady her nerves.

"_Fi!_" Elizabeth leaned over, "You're not getting out a dagger or pistol from your purse, are you?"

Fi stopped for a second, looking exasperated.

"No, _I am not a pirate,_" whispered back Fi sardonically, although she derived some pleasure from playing these head games with Hussy.

Fi finally found what she was looking for from her purse and held it up for Elizabeth to see. It was simply a white envelope. Fi placed it on the table and slid it over to Elizabeth's side of the table.

Fi reached for her drink while Elizabeth stared down at the envelope.

"What is this?" Elizabeth cast her look back at Fiona.

"Call it a present for you."

A gift from Fi? Elizabeth touched the envelope tentatively, as if it might explode on her. She warily held the envelope and flipped up the flap. Carefully she took out the printed paper and scowled at the certificate.

"I don't understand..." began Elizabeth.

"It's a gift certificate," explained Fi, "For free Tae Kwon Do lessons for three months. They have satellite studios as far away as Vegas. Have a nice trip back."

Elizabeth still looked confused

"... and you did this because..." Elizabeth asked.

"...because," stated Fi evenly, "I have a sense of fair play. At the end of three months of lessons, we are going to meet again." She leaned forward, "and then, _I am going to kick your ass._"

Elizabeth was taken aback, as she put the paper back in its envelope.

"Er...thanks?..."

The silence was palpable as they consumed their stiff drinks. A new Sinatra tune was playing. Elizabeth self-consciously ran her index finger alongside the rim of her tall glass.

"Just so _you_ know," confessed Elizabeth, "despite my dropped hints, Michael has made it clear that he only has eyes for you, Fi."

"Please, call me _Fiona_," stated Fi, emotionless, "I insist."

"Alright, _Fi-ona_, " agreed Elizabeth, "To put it simply...he wants you, not me."

Outwardly, Fi showed indifference, but internally, her heart beat faster knowing that Michael remained true to her.

Elizabeth wasn't the bimbo Fi had expected. And it seemed that Elizabeth would not be going after Michael in the future. Fi felt some of her anger ebbing away.

"Perhaps we will call a truce," Fi suggested, "for now."

Fi felt in control as she lifted her drink.

Elizabeth sat up straighter, looking pleased. She held up her glass.

"Truce," agreed Elizabeth, as they both downed their drinks.

Two duplicate drinks were then placed on their table by the waitress.

The waitress informed them that it was from "that gentleman sitting at the table." She, of course, was referring to Aldo. Fi smiled while Elizabeth nodded at Aldo. He grinned salaciously back at them. The two women turned back around to face the bar.

They partook of the second drink.

"_God_!" said Fi, rolling her eyes so that only Elizabeth could see, "Enough of these goons already! Next time we need to con someone, let's pick men who work at a male model agency!"

Elizabeth snickered as she took another sip. She was pleased with Fi's usage of "we". The second drink was loosening her inhibitions as it smoothly went down her throat.

"_And,_" added Elizabeth, starting to feel giddy, "another requirement is the next guy should NOT be hairy like a gorilla...Nooo chest-hairs for us!"

Fi snorted at the word "chest-hairs". The drinking must also be affecting Fi, for she started getting a slight buzz. She lifted her half-filled glass.

"I concur...smooooth chests only."

Elizabeth lifted her glass and this time they clinked the glasses together before they drank.

Feeling very relaxed, Elizabeth leaned in, suddenly feeling very bold.

"I-I'm ... nervous." Elizabeth confessed quietly.

Fi took another swallow. She was starting to feel real good.

"Meee... too," admitted Fi, to the amazement of Elizabeth.

"What? Y-_You?_"

"Well, not about thisss!" Fi insisted as she circulated the drink in her hand. The liquid swished aggressively in the glass, so that some spilled on the counter. Both women giggled.

Fi surprised herself. Why was she revealing all this to Elizabeth?...No, she meant Hussy. She was getting confused.

But it felt good to relate to another female her age.

"About what... could you be n-nervous about?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes less focused.

It was taking Fi longer to think. Her usual abbreviated sentences turned into ramblings. She seemed to be in a slight fog. When she spoke, it felt as if her speech was slowing down.

"I display emotions with physical actionsss, and I've got some...uh... residual negation emotions in meee," Fi had to pause, "I neeed to... somehow... _re-lease_ these...feelings...somehow...somewhere...in a phy-si-cal way, or I...will...go... _craaa-zy_!"

Fi looked over at Aldo. Elizabeth watched her and figured out what Fi was thinking.

"No, Fiona! You can_not_... h-harm Al-do" said Elizabeth, having to think through each word, "We are sup-pose to d-deliver him in one piece... to the motel-y room!"

It was as if a bucket of cold water was poured on Fi. Her eyes became large as she realized Elizabeth had said the key words to solve her dilemma.

_The motel room! _The idea began to clear Fi's mind.

The room at Motel Rendezvous. The room they were bringing Aldo to after they drugged him. Maybe she could arrive there before Michael, Nate and Sam checked in.

"Thank you, Elizabeth," stated Fi, "You just ga-ave me a great idea."

The compliment from Fi sent Elizabeth in a surprised tizzy, weakening the effect from the alcohol.

"Sooo...we're not going to an-ni-hi-late Aldo from the face of the earth, _are we_?" Elizabeth asked, almost sounding disappointed.

Fi hiccuped and she placed her hand over her mouth, her eyes opened wide. They both giggled. When it died down, it acted as a signal to get serious again.

"No, although 'annihilate Aldo' _was_ a lovely image," Fi recovered, now becoming more focused, "On your suggestion, I am going to use the motel room..._my way_."

Elizabeth watched how determined Fi looked. She pushed her drink away.

"I like that we are strategizing together." commented Elizabeth, even though she didn't understand.

"Together is good," Fi decided, "...and one more thing."

Fi reached over and started ripping the white envelope containing the Tae Kwon do lessons. She tore it again and again until the white envelope was in tiny, scattered pieces on the table.

Elizabeth did not know what to make of this.

"Fiona-" she began.

"Call me '_Fi_".

Elizabeth looked stunned, but pleased.

"Alright, _Fi." _Elizabeth corrected herself as she looked over at Aldo, "We're going to kick his ass, aren't we?"

"Exactly." agreed Fi, "Our new little Italian friend won't know _what_ hit him."

Fi patted her purse with the drug inside.

Both women turned and gave flirtatious waves as Aldo reciprocated.

Confidently, Alfonso Aldo stood, buttoned his jacket, and started towards them.

Elizabeth was no longer nervous. Deal with another mobster? Pshaw! She had faced Fiona; she could face anyone. The thought made her feel assuredly attractive.

Fiona felt the plan was all coming together now. Her mind was already racing forward to the image of the motel room afterwards. Her smile was sincere as the schmuck approached them.

Aldo was walking towards them with a swagger. _Damn_, those luscious beauties were even hotter the closer he got! _I just_ _hope there's enough of me to go around, _Aldo chuckled to himself_._

He was sure this was going to be his lucky night!

The con was on.

He had no chance against these two.

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**_Please review._**


	22. Chapter 22

Another "Rendezvous"

Chapter 22

Michael had a plan on how to re-kidnap Ruth and make sure Vespi did not bother Elizabeth any longer. The answer was simple: they were going to work a con.

_The plan was to abduct Aldo, the number two thug of a rival mob family, and convince him that the ledger belonged to _**_his _**_boss. Aldo would clandestinely place it back in his boss' safe, thinking it was theirs._

_No way would Vespi try to go after it, for he would not want to alert his rival to its existence. This left them free to re-kidnap Ruth and show Vespi the photo of the ledger in the enemy's safe, warning that if he ever bothered Elizabeth again, they would reveal Vespi's ledger to the other crime boss._

It was foolproof... if only they could get the con to work.

They first needed to pick an undisclosed, private place to pull off this con job.

Spies like to blend into the background. The only time they like to stand out is when they are under an assumed identity.

Michael was an expert in fake personas. He had impersonated everyone from a foreign spy to a legal lawyer to a computer geek. Each altered identity required a different accent, gesture, and personality. Michael had been able to incorporate each identity with perfect ease.

Except one.

To portray a fictionalized expert with a totally created background was one thing. But when you assume an identity of an established famous celebrity with a swooning fanbase of one, that was another thing entirely.

But that is what they needed to do in order to secure a location.

Michael, Sam and Nate had arrived at Motel Rendezvous. Michael had gone here previously with Fi, where the owner of this sleazy establishment had mistaken him for the actor James Franco. To Michael, who could not see the resemblance, someone obviously needed a trip to the optometrist.

Motel Rendezvous had not changed much. The name and ambiance of the establishment said it all. This sleazy place was perfect for backdoor amorous meetings.

The three walked into the old, ramshackled 1970's styled wooden lobby. The same "concierge" sign and the small silver dome bell was still on the counter.

"Bro, I've seen some scum bucket joints before," said Nate looking all around, "but this place makes _those_ look like Disney World!"

"Holy Crap!" agreed Sam, scanning the place, "I bet no one would ever think of looking for us here!"

"And that is why this would be the perfect place for our plan," said Michael, as he tapped the bell once.

They heard footsteps trudging from behind the tacky velvety curtain.

Trudy Martin was the manager of the run-down motel. Pushing aside the curtain, she entered the lobby with a dour expression. Looking up suddenly her eyes brightened when she recognized Michael.

When spies assume an identity, they do best by reading background files. Not being prepared for a cover has it consequences. It may not necessarily cause injury or death, but it may cause a bit of... awkwardness.

"OOOhhh, Mr. Franco! Mr. Franco! Welcome again!" Trudy was a plus-sized, mature woman with cat-eyed glasses and a serious demeanor. But with Michael, she suddenly turned into a squealing teeney-bopper, "You look as handsome as ever! And I've heard you've returned back to General Hospital!'

Spies rarely watch television because their lives often overshadow any drama a show can present to them. In Michael's mind, _a burn notice and television did not mix._ Therefore, Michael had no idea about General Hospital.

"Uh, yes... I am back at general hospital... I have been under the weather lately," Michael commented, feigning a cough, wishing right now he could be playing a Ukrainian diplomat or a Hungarian translator.

Nate elbowed Michael, "Such a kidder, our little celebrity!" said Nate, adding a fake, boisterous laugh, "Of course he knows you're referring to his return to the daytime soap opera, '_General Hospital_', right, Bro...ke all kinds of daytime television ratings with your appearance on the show, right?"

"O-Of course!" agreed Michael, giving her his charming believe-me smile. He turned to Nate with a questioning look as Nate pointed to his wedding ring as explanation for his knowledge of soaps. Trudy leaned over and placed her elbows on the table, her chin resting on the her hands as she flirtatiously batted her eyes, as Michael continued talking.

"I've enjoyed playing the role of ...a doctor on that show," he said, trying to sound sincere.

Trudy scowled at the comment. Uh-oh. Correction needed

"...I mean...playing the role of a _patient_," Michael amended, "who, uh, _was _previously a doctor."

Trudy straightened up, "You play a serial killer on the show."

"...R-r-right, but in future episodes, I will dress up in _doctor's_ scrubs and have a shoot out at the hospital," Michael improvised, "and then the police will come barging in with guns blazing, thus making me a _patient._"

Sam tilted his head.

Trudy was beside herself with joy, "Oooo! Wonderful plotline! Ths is Emmy- worthy material here!"

Trudy then turned to Nate, "And, _you, _young man_,_ are certainly lucky to be working for such a wonderful star! What do you actually _do_ for Mr. Franco?"

Michael, Sam and Nate spoke up in unison.

"…Assistant cameraman!" stated Michael.

"…Number one stunt person!" insisted Nate.

"…Cue card boy!" uttered Sam.

All three looked solemnly at Trudy who, again, was looking puzzled over the confusion of duties.

"...We get our money's worth with him," explained Michael.

Trudy now turned her attention to Sam. She gave him a good looking over, up and down.

"Hel-_looo_, Sailor!" she said before adding, "did anyone ever tell you that with that chiseled jaw of yours, you should be in _front_ of the cameras?"

Sam nodded, "Tell me something I _don't_ know!"

She giggled to his response, "You, like Mr. Franco, are handsome enough to be the leading man in a romantic comedy..."

Sam gave her a roguish smile, "Well, I…"

"Hey! What about me?" interrupted Nate.

"You can be my proverbial, not-cute-enough best friend," said Sam.

"Don't you mean, _son_?" corrected Nate.

"Okay," relented Sam, "...my _not-cute-enough_ stepson."

"Uh, Trudy," intruded Michael, "We are here for a reason. We need a room. For a scene we are shooting."

Trudy gave him a look of disappointment, which meant Michael was not going to like her answer.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Franco, our executive suite is still being renovated— remember those bloodstains from the last time?...and such a mess it was! So, unfortunately, we are all booked up!"

Michael's mind was working frantically for an alternate plan.

Nate was getting impatient. All he could think about was they were wasting precious time. Every minute that ticked by was another minute Ruthie was not safe.

Nate observed Trudy's adulation for his brother, or rather for James Franco.

This gave Nate an idea. He reached over towards Michael's white, button-down collared shirt. With quick hands, Nate unbuttoned two buttons from Michael's dress shirt.

"Stop!" Michael slapped his younger brother's hand while at the same time staring him down.

"Hey, take a gander at that!" Nate advertised to Trudy, indicating Michael's revealed chest, "You _sure_ you don't have a room available?"

With his lips pressed firmly together, Michael used his hand and tried to cover his shirt opening. He was not successful, and then to make it worse, Sam unexpectedly reached over and yanked Michael's hand away. Since Michael's hand had been grasping his shirt, the shirt was pulled open, as one button popped out. Sam's action caused even more of Michael's upper torso to be revealed.

"Oh! Oh! Oh mmmmyyyyyy..." sighed Trudy as she gaped at Michael's chest, "Some naughty boy has been working out I see! At least I _hope_ he's naughty..."

Sam cleared his throat, "Well, I can't vouch for his naughtiness, but I know he works out daily _without a shirt,_ and if he had a room here, well...he'd need to workout and all..." Sam let the words linger in the air as Trudy continued gaping at Michael's exposed chest.

"Hellooo, Lady?" asked Nate, "a room?"

Trudy barely heard him, as she picked up several pieces of paper to fan herself, her eyes never leaving Michael's bare chest. Sam and Nate glanced at Trudy and then at Michael, wondering what could cause a woman to feel the need to fan herself over an opened shirt. After all, it wasn't as if Michael had a radiator strapped to his chest.

It didn't take long for Trudy to decide.

"I think we can arrange a room for you. Someone had just _chest-out_...uh just _checked out_." Trudy was almost panting.

Michael cleared his throat and quickly buttoned up again. There was a gap, due to the one lost button. Trudy dizzily shook her head, as if she was brought out of her trance. She then turned her attention to Sam.

"And what about you, Mr. Chiseled Chin?" she set her sights on Sam.

"No, my buttons are glued onto my shirt." Sam explained.

Trudy giggled like a schoolgirl, "No, I mean what about a room; do you want a separate room...for visitors?"

Sam coughed. He sure did not want to receive _this_ visitor.

"I'm bisexual." Sam stated, looking for a way out.

Nate looked down, trying to keep a straight face.

Sam's statement did not deter Trudy in the least.

"Ooo! I love a man that likes variery!" she purred.

Sam almost fainted.

"Well, when he said _bisexual_," teased Nate, "he meant that when he's with women and he says the word 'sex' the women all say _'bye'._"

Sam gave Nate a look.

"W-what?" Trudy asked with a questioning look.

"You'll have to excuse the cue card boy," recovered Sam, "he was just promoted from Cabana boy and, you know, with the sun beating down him on him from his previous job and all..." Sam made the "crazy" circle with his index finger, as Trudy knowingly nodded.

"Gentlemen," interrupted Michael, "We really must decide where to go for a room."

"Actually, Mr. Franco, "explained Trudy, as she handed the key to him, "I was only kidding about the no room. A room has already been reserved for you, room 38."

"_Oh_?" Michael was caught off-guard, thinking he had sacrificed his uncovered chest for nothing.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to keep you here longer. We already have a room reserved for you. Your location scout—that skinny gal pal of yours? Well, she was here earlier and reserved a room. And may I add, she is _way_ too skinny. You know what I mean? She really needs to eat more. _She's like a carrot with an attitude._"

Sam snickered, "You know her well."

"Uh...did she say _why_ she came here earlier?" Michael asked.

"Not really…" stated Trudy, "Al-_though_, come to think of it, she made the strangest comment."

Uh-oh.

"_Really now_?" asked Sam, "and by strange, were the words 'guns' or bombs' mentioned?"

"or how about 'fist of fury'? Nate asked.

"Huh?" Trudy was not understanding.

"...Oh...guns, bombs and fists...they, of course, are referring to filming our action scene at the hospital," explained Michael, wondering why he brought Sam and Nate along.

"Oh, of course," although Trudy looked unsure, "No... no fists or weapons...she said something about...about..."

"_Yes?_" all three men said at once.

"...something about... venting her frustrations?"

_Oh, Fi what did you do this time? _

A humongous motel bill materialized in Michael's mind. All three men rushed out the door to see what they could salvage from the room.

"Wait, wait!" called back Trudy, "Can't you men stay a little longer to keep little 'ol me company? Mr. Franco? Mr. Chisel Chin?... Even crazy Cabana boy? Please, anyone!"

Trudy looked disappointingly at the empty lobby. Her eyes brightened when Sam popped his head back in.

"Sorry," said Sam, "No can do about keeping you company. Remember, when I told you I was 'bi' ? Well, whattaya know? Today is my turn for men!"

The three men rushed to the designated motel room. Michael pictured the entire room would be trashed. He hoped not. They needed the room to look like a motel room, in order to work their con.

If Fi had altered it in any way...

When they opened the door of their hotel room, they were shocked at what they found. All furnishing were where it should be. Even the mirror on the ceiling was intact. Nothing was added, nothing was missing. Everything was in its place.

But there was a change in the room and Nate and Sam looked at it in bafflement.

"Wow," said Sam looking at the altered state of the room, "How are we ever going to explain _this_?"

Fi definitely had been in the room. Her influence was strong.

"What the hell, Bro?" asked Nate, slowly scanning the room.

What could he say to defend Fi? thought Michael. Everyday with her is a challenge.

"Don't worry," said Michael, "We can still make it work."

Nate heaved a sigh as he looked at Michael.

"You must say that often when it comes to Fiona" commented Nate as he wondered once again, what kind of girlfriend his brother was involved with.

.

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_Please review._


	23. Chapter 23

The LCT

Chapter 23

THIRSTY. Throat felt so dry.

Eyelids heavy.

Can't move. Lower back hurts.

Quick, achy thoughts entered mobster Alfonso Aldo's mind as he felt himself regaining consciousness. Gradually he lifted his head and was able to force his eyes opened. Everything seemed hazy.

He couldn't recall much. He last remembered being at his favorite bar with two really hot babes. And then, blackness. Until now.

His hands were tied at the wrist. His legs had also been straightened and bounded together. He took in his surroundings. It was a dumpy motel room. He shifted in his seat.

Wait. Something did not feel right The perspective of the room was all wrong. Everything seemed... larger(?) than it should be. The bed in the room seemed so high, with him only being able to view the side of the bed mattress. He seemed somehow...low.

He looked down at his chair.

It lacked legs.

_Dannazione! _

_He was sitting in a legless chair!_

__What the hell?_ _Was he being held captive by the Yakuza?

In fact, as he looked around the room, _all_ the small furniture were missing their legs. In one small corner of the room he noted the detached legs of the furniture neatly stacked in one pile.

Two men were in the room, standing above him. One was a man in his early 50's with salt and pepper dark hair, wearing a Hawaiian shirt. The other was younger, maybe early 40's wearing a suit, with a serious face.

Since Aldo was sitting flat on the floor with the legless chair, he found he had to tilt his head all the way up to see the two agents. They looked like friendless giants to him. He shifted again uncomfortably in his legless chair.

"_Hey voi! _Hey you_!_ Who you two?" Alfonso asked.

"I'm special agent Michael Jones," stated Michael, "This is special agent Charles Finley."

Michael had to lower his arm to show Aldo the counterfeit badges. Aldo did not look intimidated as he analyzed his situation with the supposed FBI agents.

"_Merda_! What the hell I doing here?" Alfonso Aldo demanded, looking up and around. He had certainly dealt with the Feds before. "You got nothing on me, _niente_!"

BAM! Aldo's body suddenly jerked forward as Sam kicked the back of Alfonso's chair.

"Listen you little piece of nothing! We do the talking, you do the listening! We tell you when you can talk because _we_ are conducting the investigation, got it?" Sam's tone was serious.

Alfonso shrugged with disinterest. He knew the drill. Good cop, annoying cop.

"_Ehi!_ I no talk to you, okay_?_" he said, "I know my rights! I want my lawyer! This chair, no legs? This not right...like.._.sitting on bottom shelf!_ Much trouble for you! So I say again. **I want my lawyer**!"

Let them see that he knew the American legal system! Aldo thought.

"You want a lawyer?" responded Sam, "Well, I want a bubble bath with Angelina Jolie, but that's not happening, either."

"What?" Aldo asked incredulously. Didn't the FBI have rules they must follow? He looked at the two men again. His neck started to cramp from looking up so much.

"You explain to me _right_ _now_ why I like this! You see this? Tied down in zero legged chair!"

Aldo turned towards Michael, who seemed the more sensible of the two.

"Calm down, Aldo..." stated a solemn Michael, "We are conducting an interrogation using an FBI-issued chair. It is called the _legless chair of torture_."

Talking about winging it, Michael thought.

Aldo scowled, "W-what you say?.._.legless...what_?"

"…The legless chair of torture! Better know as the **L-C-T!** !" stated Sam, who bent down and whispered in Aldo's ear, "Notice, you can't even bend your knees."

"Oh? That's all you got to scare me, you _persona stupida_? You give me straight knees?" Aldo asked angrily, "I not scare of ...how you say...two _renegada_ agents! This chair no bother me. No! I will sit here all day like this! All day!"

But in Aldo's mind, he knew that wasn't true. Strange, that ever since the big mouth agent mentioned how Alfonso would not be able to bend his knee, Aldo had a strong urge to bend his knee.

Spies know the power of suggestion is very strong. The more you suggest it, the more power you possess.

Aldo gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the feeling of bending. His legs were banded together so he was unable to do anything but keep them linear.

_Merda_!

He looked at his legs sticking straight out with his feet pointing up to the ceiling. Willpower, he thought, sweat beating above his brows. He willed his mind to accept the straightness of his legs.

What he wouldn't give to have his knees bent and his feet on solid ground.

Sam pretended to peer closer at Aldo.

"Oh, looky here, "pointed out Sam, "Is that a twitch I see at your knee joints? If I didn't know any better, I'd say your knees were _itching_ to bend! No long, winding highway for you, Buddy! Straight, straight and more straight! This is like a mini prison for your immovable knee joints_."_

The sweat started dripping down one side of Aldo's face as he turned towards Michael.

"Tell me what you want from me, _rapidamente_!" he insisted.

"We don't _want_ anything from you, we actually need you to _take_ something back with you," explained Michael.

"Eh?" Aldo was baffled, as well as uncomfortable.

Michael brought out Vespi's ledger for Aldo to see. Michael was going to strike the book on the table for dramatic effect, but the table was missing its legs, too; it was situated too low for him.

What would be the best way to slam the book on the table?

Should he... get on his knees? Lean? Bend over? _Perhaps lay down?_

Oh Fi, why? _Why?_

Michael had no choice. From where he stood, he let go of the ledger and let it fall to the table. It fell quickly and landed with a plop, not a thud. It took some time to reach the table, so the sound startled no one.

Alfonso Aldo leaned over to look at the book that appeared unfamiliar to him.

"_Che cosa era_? What is that? No, I never see before that book!"

"Don't play dumb with us, Aldo!" Michael lied, 'You KNOW this is one of your bosses illegal ledgers. You see, we were able to obtain this from your boss' private safe while it was under your watch. Now, I don't know about your boss, but most mob bosses would be very, very angry if their business ledges went missing."

"What?" Aldo question as a sweat dripped down, "I tell you, _this one not his!_ I never see before!"

"Of course this is your boss' ledger!" insisted Michael, "You think we'd give you someone else's ledger? To what purpose? _Does that make any sense?"_

"Yeah…"said Sam, "you've got to do a lot of fast talking in order to explain to him how the FBI now has possession of his ledger! There is enough info here to put away your boss on racketeering charges!

"So why you involve me?" Aldo asked.

"We just need you to put this ledger safely back in your boss' safe. " said Michael, the good cop, "Just be sure to hide it well underneath his other papers in case your boss had been looking for it previously."

Aldo wasn't sure if he was being played.

"No! I not help! You hear me? I _like_ to sit here!" After all, Alfonso had been through worse torture in his lifetime and never gave up a single name.

He looked away, his head held proudly.

"Oh, so you _like _sitting in this legless chair_?_" asked Sam, " But wait! It's an _armless_ chair as well! Are your elbows _also_ rioting for a place to call their own?"

Aldo suddenly realized he could not rest his elbows. He uncomfortably tried several positions. His arms were tied up and just kind of "floating" alongside his body. Why didn't his chair have an armrest? Now he needed to shift his legs. Then his arms needed moving. _Merda!_

Aldo was no longer thinking about the ledger_. _Stupid restless elbows and sticking out legs!

Aldo looked at the two agents mistrustfully.

"So I put ledger back?" he asked, "That all you want?"

"Almost..." said Michael.

Michael got out his cell phone camera. Sam picked up the ledger and knelt next to Aldo.

"Smile at the camera," Sam said in a sing-song way, "Say LCT!"

Michael took the picture of the two of them with the ledger in Sam's hand.

"Yep, that about does it," Michael explained, "Oh, just one more thing. Once you put the ledger back, we need you to snap a picture of it securely in the safe. You then send the photo to my phone."

"Yeah," said Sam, "We live for souvenirs! Once we get that photo from you, then _poof!_ We will disappear from your life and you could be _Gumby_ for all we care."

"And if you don't," reminded Michael, showing Aldo the picture with him, Sam and the ledger, "we will show _this_ to your boss. I don't think your boss will be too happy with his ledger in the hands of the FBI."

Aldo's whole body started having a small spasm. But not about the predicament of the ledger; his body was responding to his yearning limbs. Sam knew exactly what was on Aldo's mind.

_"_It's like your legs and arms have been robbed _of their souls_, haven't they?" Sam suggestively asked.

No, no, Aldo would not give in.

He forced his mind to think of other things. He would think of a pleasant image in his mind, yes! It had certainly worked before! His mind drifted to conjure up a picture of a field of daisies. A beautiful, beautiful blanket of daisies! He closed his eyes and all he saw was a field of _stalkless_ daisies, the petals spread flat out on the ground. _Nooooo_.

They heard a knock on the door. Sam went to answer it. It was Nate, who came in and carried two regular looking wooden chairs.

Aldo leaned forward as much as he could and looked longingly at the regular chairs.

"Thank you special agent, uh, guy," said Sam, not really knowing what name Nate wanted to give himself.

"You mean deputy director special agent Nate Smart in charge of covert operations," Nate announced proudly, as he placed the two chairs for Michael and Sam before leaving.

Michael and Sam each sat down on one, with Sam sighing a relaxing "Ahhhhh." when he sat down.

Aldo watched Sam languidly relaxing. His eyes got large when he witnessed Sam reach one of his legs up and over. Jealousy stung Aldo's face. _Merda! One leg on top of the other! _It was like witnessing a leg orgasm.

That did Aldo in.

"_Bene, bene._ okay, okay, I do it!" he rushed the words, "Give ledger to me! I put in safe and take picture! _Molta bueno foto!_ And I take the good photo for you! ...Now... _per favore_, I sit on one of _real_ chair now, _yes?_"

Aldo's eyes emphatically pleaded. Michael and Sam looked at one another.

_Fi works it mysterious ways, _Michael thought to himself with a smile.

It was time to bring Ruth home.

.

.

_Special thanks for Purdy's Pal. This idea came from her 'out of the ashes' story and she allowed me to use the idea here. So I took her legless chair idea and just ran with it...And also, thank you Amanda Hawthorne for, well, just being you..._

_**Please review.**_


	24. Chapter 24

Michael and Fi share some alone time

Chapter 24

Night had fallen. It had been a long day.

Tomorrow would be a big day for everyone. Early in the morning Team Westen planned to rescue Ruth. But that would be tomorrow.

Michael and Fi were alone in the loft at last.

Shirtless, and comfortable, Michael had retrieved a bottle of wine from the kitchen as he waited for Fi to finish showering. With the bottle in his hand, he sat at the edge of the bed and placed the two glasses on the floor.

He uncorked the bottle, wondering what the night would mean for them. For their relationship.

Fiona emerged from the bathroom and stood at the other end of the loft, waiting for Michael to notice her. Wearing a short, black negligee, with feminine lace sewn bordering the top and bottom edges, she gave him a sensual gaze. The bottom slits of her nightwear parted as she posed for him, exposing the entire length of her legs. He looked up and swept an assessing glance over at her, his expression openly showing he liked what he saw.

His nerves clamored with anticipation when she shot him a look that said, _I've been waiting for this_.

He placed the wine bottle next to the two empty glasses on the floor. No wine was needed. He felt intoxicated already. He gestured for her to come to him.

Goose bumps rose on her chilled skin as she walked towards him with bare feet. The artificial light from the loft shone through the transparent black silk. Fi knew he could see everything, from the flashes of her tanned skin to the shape of her body.

"Fi," he almost whispered the words, "You look ravishing tonight."

He craved her warmth, her sweetness, her hands on his body.

She was so close to him she could touch him, but she didn't. Michael saw in her face a look of apprehension. She tilted her head as she spoke.

"Michael, about the other day, when I yelled at you over the soup cans at my feet..."

"Fi..." interrupted Michael, "You _really_ want to talk about the soup cans _now_? _At a time like this_?"

The minute the words came out of his mouth, Michael wanted to take them back. Fi looked frustratingly at him. Michael knew he needed to be careful with his next words. He placed his arms around her waist and was relieved when she did not pull away. The best thing was to let her speak her mind.

"Mi-_chael_, I am trying to make a point with the soup cans and you're not listening!"

"I apologize, Fi," he said with sincerity, watching her simmering down, "I seem to have a weakness when it comes to any discussions regarding the cans."

Fi lifted an eyebrow.

"Really, Michael? _the cans_?" she asked, "like soup cans are _hip_ now?

Michael felt the sensual mood slipping away.

"Fi, forget that I've interrupted your point about the soup cans!" Michael was exasperated with himself. "_Please..._ as you were saying..."

Fi shrugged, " I just wanted to say...I'm sorry."

Fi apologizing?

Michael pulled a standing Fi closer to the welcomed space between his knees as he remained seated at the foot of the bed. Quivering, her eyes watched as his chest heaved in and out.

Her eyes slid down to view his taut stomach. She could not resist any longer as she reached towards the upper part of his body, her fingers stroking as she explored his hard front torso.

Michael inhaled sharply. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm much faster than normal. He looked at her sensual lips, remembered the warmth and taste of her...

Until she spoke up again.

"One more thing, Michael..."

Disappointment shown on his face as Michael slowly let out his breath, trying to curb his impatience.

"Let me guess, Fi...is this about the legless chair in the motel room?"

She blinked quickly.

"No..._why_... was there a problem?" she asked innocently.

"It's just that you shouldn't have...oh... never mind!..." Michael said, now working to get back into 'the mood.'

She shrugged again before she continued.

..."I was going to mention the thrown snow-globes... also know to you as the slang term, _'the globes._'"

He looked at her with a smile in his voice, "...in the 'hood, we call them, '_the snowz_."

She returned his smile, "I'll sorry about _the snowz, _too...So, have I groveled enough now?"

Her pleading expression somehow made her look vulnerable. He tried to fill his mind with every detail of her face; from her long curled lashes to her wide, sensual mouth.

He nodded. "I think we have both learned that there must be a little give and take from each of us."

"From each of us," she agreed.

Michael was done with the lecture.

Fi was mesmerized by the clear blueness of his eyes. Her eyes traveled down his bare chest, as she again admired his washboard abs. She now sat on one of his legs, running her hand along his muscular chest. She could not resist.

"I do get impatient with people sometimes, don't I?" she asked sincerely, still feeling the contours of his chest.

"At times...but, Fi… tonight, _I_ am the impatient one," he said.

Fi watched his face and felt his hands begin a slow, careful sojourn over her body. The heat of his palms scorched through the thin barrier of silk she wore. Her body instinctively started to respond until a thought crossed her mind and she placed her hand over his to halt any further action.

"Michael…wait…we have a mission to do tomorrow, remember?" reminded Fi with regretful eyes, "don't you think we should get some rest?"

Fi gasped as Michael pressed her against him. He was so strong and solid, his shoulder looming over her as he pulled her down on the bed and hovered over her in a loving embrace. He completely shielded her with his aroused body.

A wry smile came to Michael's lips, "We will rest, Fi...eventually... "

He then covered her mouth with his.

xxx

**The Next Day**

South Beach, also called SoBe, was one of the more affluent areas in Miami.

Washington Avenue was one of the more well- known streets that ran through South Beach. Home to countless fancy shops, elaborate hotels and sophisticated nightclubs, the street finished up at a secluded highway leading to a huge farmhouse.

Team Westen, Nate and Elizabeth were headed there to confront Vespi and retrieve Ruthie.

The long white farmhouse sat on a good twenty acres of land. Upfront it had displayed a sign which read. "Vespi's Farms."

A working farm? Not quite, thought Michael, as a guard with a big nose greeted them at the entrance fence. Most farms don't come equipped with electronic fences and security guards. Michael found it hard to believe that this so-called farm's crops of lettuce and corn were really that valuable.

Michael and Nate walked up to the gate and requested to speak to Vespi. The guard called it in. It took awhile.

At last three men walked up to the security area to escort Michael and Nate to see Vespi. The main guy was built like a large slab of a mountainside. The other two men who wore suits were regular sized.

There were no introductions.

"Follow me to the house. Mr. Vespi is ready to see you," Large Slab said with a low voice.

"Finally!' said Nate impatiently, "'This is so uncool to keep us waiting this long...Vespi will be sorry at the end because he'll be no match for _us_, right Michael?"

Michael's expression gave nothing away.

But internally, a thought entered Michael's mind_._ Sam was right. When Nate got threatened, he _did_ sound like a Power Ranger.

Large Slab obviously didn't like Nate's threat also, as he got right into Nate's face, "Man, I'd like to waste you now."

Nate's mouth dropped at the threatening way Large Slab stated the deadly words. Nate was quiet the rest of the way to the Farmhouse.

After checking them for weapons, the three guards walked Michael and Nate up to the Farmhouse.

The house loomed ahead. They walked up to the porch. Stepping in, the foyer was expensively furnished with a crystal chandelier, marble floors and a large staircase. Very different from the simple farmhouse exterior.

They were ushered into a main room. Modern and elaborate were the themes here. Marble statues and expensive paintings were displayed throughout. The walls and floor were painted a soft gray with fiberglass shelves all around to exhibit the avant-garde statues. The bar was made of Lucite. The long sofa and bar stools were black. The whole place had an aura of being as warm as an ice cube.

Michael stopped at this one marbleized statue of something modern that he couldn't make out. He touched it. Substantial. He noted the large windows with hedges lining all around the perimeter of the farmhouse. This room was well hidden from outside viewing.

The two suited guys stood on either side of the door.

"Hey, look, Michael," jested Nate, pointing to the two Suits, "They're doing the Buckingham Palace Guard thingy of guarding the door! I'm surprised they aren't wearing those gigantic dust feathers on their heads! Ha! Ha!"

Nate waved his hand in their face to see if they blinked. The guards just stood. No reaction.

"See how stupid they look?" Nate felt he could say anything, until guard number turned towards Nate.

"If we're that stupid and you're _our_ prisoners, what does that make _you_?" he asked.

At least Nate was smart enough to keep quiet now.

A door on the other side of the room opened and Vespi walked in. He was younger and better looking than Michael had expected, with slick back wavy dark hair, a straight nose and an excellent built. His whole persona spoke of power, wealth, and dominance.

Michael and Nate were invited to sit down. Michael sat on the long black sectional sofa. The leather was uber luxurious and he thought he would be swallowed up by it.

Large Slab sat right next to Michael. Their bodies were almost touching.

"This is a bit _too_ cozy, isn't it?" Michael said sarcastically to Large Slab.

Large Slab smiled, "Don't worry...I showered," he responded.

A thug with a sense of humor. _Great..._

"The Westen brothers, what an honor," Vespi said as he sat on the large, individual sofa.

Vespi sat as if he were on a throne, which to his men, it probably was for him. He seemed as if he had all the time in the world. His movements and speech was deliberate but powerful. He turned to Michael as he added, "I am especially pleased to see you, Michael Westen, for your reputation precedes you."

"We are not here to talk about my reputation," Michael said.

Nate was getting impatient, as always.

"I know you have Ruthie, so hand her over!" interjected Nate, "or you'll be sorry, _capice?._.. you understand _capice_?"

Forget Power Ranger. Hello, Dora the Explorer.

"Sorry? I am _never_ sorry," stated Vespi seriously, "even when I kill the wrong guy."

He was looking straight at Nate. His calm demeanor was even more imposing than if he had ranted and demanded. One of the thugs from the door came over with a drink for Vespi. Michael noticed he did not offer them a drink. No common courtesy as Vespi continued to speak.

"I will tell you two this much, brother Westens," he said, " I have your dear Ruth, but whether or not she will go back to you, is all up to you. You have something of mine that I want back. Disappointingly, my guards searched you and you did not have it on you."

He tsked, tsked, "Therefore, I really do not know the purpose of your visit," he then gave a slight wave to Large Slab who nodded back.

Large Slab, who was seated next to Michael, then reacted. He reached over and punched Michael deep in the stomach.

_Oof!_

The fist followed through all the way to what seemed like the leather fabric of the sofa. Michael doubled over in pain as he struggled to regain his breath. Air, he needed air.

"Mi-chael!" Nate exclaimed as he started getting off the sofa. Large Slab stood up and merely held Nate's forehead with his large hand and pushed Nate back down on the sofa. The two Suits came forward with their guns pointed at the brothers.

Vespi stood up.

"I have become slightly bored with your visit. Unless you want to tell me where the ledger is, I will take my leave of you. My boys, here," Vespi indicated the three men, "will try and convince you to divulge the information I need. Good day. I doubt I will ever see you again."

He then turned to look at Large Slab, "and Ernie, please do not get any blood stains on my rug. Last time you were a bit...shall we say...enthusiastic?"

Michael slowly got up and exchanged looks with Nate.

It did not look good for the Westen brothers.

.

.

**_Please review._**


	25. Chapter 25

The Rescue

Chapter 25

Everyone stood, waiting for something to happen. Mobster Mario Vespi was going to leave Michael and Nate in the hands of the violent Large Slab thug and the two suited guards.

"So your name's' Ernie'?" Michael said to Large Slab, after hearing Vespi call him that, "Isn't that a Sesame Street character?"

Large Slab gave Michael a "slight" bully push which, with his built, sent Michael comically stumbling backwards, "It'll be my pleasure to kick your ass first!" He answered to Michael.

"Hey!" said Nate as he maneuvered his hands into a karate pose again, "I better warn you, my friend, these hands have been known to do serious damage!"

Large Slab snickered at Nate's emptied threat, "There's always a stupid one in the bunch."

"Oh yeah?" warned Nate, "Well...you know what I think about that?"

Here it comes, Michael thought, another one of Nate's 'I'm-a-skilled-ninja- fighter' comments.

"I'm just dying to know what you think, Jerk," smirked Large Slab.

"Okay, here it is," stated Nate, "...to fight and conquer the opponent is not the proof of strength superiority. Strength superiority is proven when one is able to conquer the opponent's resistance without bringing forth a weapon."

Huh?...Michael, Vespi, Large Slab and the two guards in unison all turned to look at Nate in stunned silence.

Nate looked surprised at all the attention suddenly showered on him.

"_What ?_" asked Nate, as he brought his hands up and started patting his face, "Do I have something on my face?"

"_Enough_!"said Vespi, getting impatient, "...as I was saying before we were all so...distracted... I will take my leave, and none too soon. Goodbye forever, brother Westens."

Vespi started walking away.

"Vespi, " called back Michael, "you may not want to leave at this moment. Indeed, you will want to stay. For while I do not have the ledger on me, I can prove to you that I know the exact location of your ledger."

_Damn! What has Nate done to me!_ internalized Michael, _I now sound like Robin Hood!_

But outwardly Michael's expression gave away nothing as he watched Vespi pause mid-step, thinking. At last Vespi turned back to face Michael.

'I'm listening," Vespi said, "but be quick."

Michael needed to stay serious and focused.

"If you check a certain picture that had been downloaded on my cell phone, you'll see what happened to your ledger," informed Michael.

Vespi looked askance at Michael, trying to measure the veracity of his words. It only took him a second to decide. He nodded towards Large Slab who produced Michael's cell phone and tossed it over to Vespi. Flipping open the cover of the cell phone, Vespi pushed several buttons.

Vespi scowled as he looked at one of the pictures.

"From your reactions, I assumed you've found the correct picture." Michael explained, "As you can see, your ledger is safely ensconced in your competitor's safe, and all it will take is one call from me to one of my associates."

"Yeah, Vespi..." said Nate, "The authorities would LOVE to get their hands on your ledger! You have no choice but to give us Ruth!"

Using one bent elbow as a stable base, Vespi calmly brought his main hand to his lips, in a thinking gesture. He had made a decision.

"Very clever, Westens. I suppose a reward should be forthcoming. Bring her in," said Vespi, nodding. The two suited guards put away their weapons. One of the guards opened the door leading from another room.

Ruth must have been held just outside the door. Obviously, Vespi had planned all along to let Michael and Nate see her. At the opportune moment, when the door had opened, she had been rudely pushed from behind. She stumbled into the room. Nate ran over to the exhausted Ruthie.

"**_Ruthie!_**" relieved Nate said. Her head looked up as her tired eyes sparkled at her husband.

Nate wrapped his arms securely around her in a tender hug. He stroked her hair as she started sobbing in relief. When they separated, Nate took careful hold of her face, as though fearing it was dream.

"Oh, Nate. _Nate._' Ruthie's eyes shined with tears and happiness.

She allowed herself to be engulfed in Nate's loving embrace. Pure exhaustion blanketed her face. They hugged, they whispered, they cried, they kissed. Observing the scene, Michael felt like an intruder.

Nate gave Vespi a dirty look, "You brute! I wish I could just kill you now!"

Mario Vespi merely shrugged his shoulders, as if he didn't have a care in the world, "There is not a mark on her. We did her no harm. She was well cared for, yet she complained. She is weak. I don't expect any less from you."

"Why you..." Nate started to move forward.

"_Nate_!" Michael tried to calm his brother down, "Don't let him get to you! You need to tend to Ruth!"

Nate turned back to his wife and knew Michael was right. He slowly escorted Ruthie to the couch. As he gently held onto her, Ruthie happened to look past Nate and spotted Michael.

A smile shown through the tears. "Michael, I'd knew you'd come...thank you," she said in a breathless voice.

Mario Vespi interrupted.

"Well, well," he said, "isn't this family reunion _cozy_?" He turned to look at Michael again," and let me add, you may _think_ you've won the war, when, in reality, you've only won one battle."

"I'll take it one battle at a time, then." Michael said.

Vespi's eyes looked dead as he stared with no emotion at Michael.

"But don't you see? Time is not on your side. I could kill you and your brother _now_ and then annihilate your friends and your secret would be gone. Of course, that would take time and I am the sort of man who likes immediate results."

"And immediate results to you mean, what, Vespi?" asked Michael.

Vespi gave a smug smile as he continued.

"I see that you are using my ledger as a way to bargain for everyone's safety. A wise move, I must say. So, to show I am a fair man, I will do as you wish and release the three of you."

Michael stood up, "This is too easy. What are you up to?"

Vespi smiled wickedly, "Spies are so cynical, although I suppose they have to be in order to survive. As I was saying, the three of you will leave here alive, but... perhaps not in the same condition you had arrived in. Nothing deadly, just something that might _scar._..for life..."

He indicated Large Slab, who was standing near Michael, "Ernie is an expert in that field..."

"Nooooo, Mario," Ruthie burst in, "please! Just let us go!"

"Now, Ruth," tsked Vespi, "You should not interfere. You and I, luckily have a history as friends. Otherwise, you may have been included in these plans."

_Creak_

Large Slab loudly cracked his knuckles while at the same time invitingly looking at Michael.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to show-off?" Michael asked.

Large Slab smiled acerbically at Michael, while showing one gold tooth,"I am going to break your leg. I'll break it slo-o-owly so that you will feel every little tear I make in your bones. Then I will go for your arms."

Michael didn't flinch.

"Break my leg first?" Michael asked, "Isn't that a bit...I don't know... cliché?"

Large Slab smiled, "Not the way I do it."

Michael showed no reaction as he slowly scanned the room.

"You can stop searching for an escape route," Vespi announced with a satisfied smile, "_There is nowhere for you to run._"

Michael turned to directly face Vespi.

"_Who says I want to run?_" asked Michael.

Vespi's smile disappeared when he saw Michael's next move.

Without warning, Michael grabbed the heavy marble statue. The suited guards brought their guns forward as Large Slab, who was standing next to Michael, ducked.

But Michael wasn't aiming the statue at anyone. Michael straightened his arm sideways and spun the marble statue around like a discus thrower. He aimed it straight for the windows and let go.

_**KAAAAAA-SHHHIIIINNNNGGGG!**_

The windows exploded as glass shattered everywhere.

Team Westen was ready to react.

**KA-BOOOOOOOM!**

There was the sound of a large explosion coming from outside the farmhouse, near the security gate.

The farmhouse shook as fire, caused by the commotion, could be seen outside the broken glass window. This was followed by the sounds of running feet and yelling.

"**Hit the deck!**" yelled Michael, but Nate and Ruthie were already on the floor, Nate knowing what was to occur.

_Ratt-tatt-tatt! Piyong! Piyong! Ratt-tatt-tatt! Piyong! Piyong! Ratt-tatt-tatt! Piyong! Piyong! Ratt-tatt-tatt!_

The continuous onslaught of rapid gunfire was now aimed directly for the interior main room of the farmhouse.

Everyone in the room was on the ground now as bullets flew everywhere. Several bullets took out the overhead chandelier, as shards of crystal shattered everywhere. Others hit statues and shelves.

A whole row of sniper fire created a line of ammunition holes along the opposite wall.

_Ratt-tatt-tatt! Piyong! Piyong! Ratt-tatt-tatt! Piyong! Piyong! Ratt-tatt-tatt! Piyong! Piyong! Ratt-tatt-tatt!_

"_Sh*t!_", yelled Large Slab, now down on the ground, "_Mario, they must have the entire army out there!_"

"Yeah, that's right, suckers!" claimed Nate, "we've got about a bi-jillion speciallly trained army guys out there!"

Large Slab and Vespi brought up their heads slightly to survey the damage.

_Ratt-tatt-tatt! Piyong! Piyong! Ratt-tatt-tatt! Piyong! Piyong! Ratt-tatt-tatt! Piyong! Piyong! Ratt-tatt-tatt!_

They then had to drop their heads to the ground again.

Gotta love Sam and Fi.

**KA-BOOOOOOOOOM! ****KAAA-BOOOOOOOOOOOM!**

Another two explosions, the second one more powerful, could be heard somewhere off in the distance.

Okay, Fi was overdoing it now.

Vespi, at last, lost his cool, as he kept his hands over his covered head.

_Ratt-tatt-tatt! Piyong! Piyong! Ratt-tatt-tatt! _

"My place! My men!" Vespi bellowed, "Tell them to stop firing!"

"Are you kidding?" yelled Nate above the fray, "This is nothing! Wait until the tactical air support flies overhead!"

(If Nate mentions the arrival of the Coast Guard with their search and rescue ships, Michael was going to slug him.)

_"Just go!" _Vespi finally insisted,_ "The three of you just get the hell out of here_!"

Michael imagined Vespi's Farms would never look the same again. Vespi would be lucky if he'll be able to grow a blade of grass.

The shooting had subsided on its own.

It was strangely quiet except for the sound of burning objects and yelling somewhere in the distance.

Michael stood up and gestured for Nate and Ruth to do the same.

Large Slab started to get up, too.

"My advice to you is to stay down," warned Michael to the thug.

"Shut the f*ck up!" said an angry Large Slab, as he stood.

A single shot rang out.

Large Slab turned white as a ghost as he dropped back down, flattening himself on the floor again.

Nate snickered, "That bullet almost gave you a new part in your hair!"

Michael knew that last accurate shot had been Fi's signature shot.

Some spies had to get the last word in, other spies had to get the last shot in.

"We are leaving now," Michael announced, "I'd advise you and your goons to stay down. My friends know the difference between the good and bad guys. And Vespi?"

Vespi was smart enough to stay down, although when he lifted his head, there was a look of pure hatred in his expression.

"Say your piece, Westen."

"You need to radio your men downstairs. Tell them to let us through. Otherwise my friends will be forced to lob grenades in here if there is any delay."

"Yeah!" said Nate, "We know your home base now, and don't ever bother us again or we'll send in B-2 stealth bombers and Vespi's Farms will become Vespi's Harmed!"

"Oh, Nate, my hero!" declared Ruth.

"Remember, we walk out of here unharmed," reminded Michael.

Vespi reluctantly got up, "_Done. Get out_." There was venom in his voice as he made the call.

No one bothered them as the three exited Sherwood Forest...er...Vespi's Farms.

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_(I always try to personally thank each reviewer for taking time out to write, but I could never reach the **anonymous** ones who also take time out of their busy lives to write something. Thank you! Each review has brought a smile to my face. I think BN readers are the most awesome, generous people in the fanfic universe)_

_Only two chapters to go!_


	26. Chapter 26

The Rescue, part 2

Chapter 26

**(Half an hour earlier)**

Sam and Fiona were hidden in their high perch just outside Vespi's Farmhouse.

They had just finished bombarding the Farmhouse with a multitude of weapons and gunfire. They had also set off three explosions.

It was a dream come true for Fiona.

Sam had been watching all the action through the binoculars as Fi was busy reloading her firearms in case there would be additional trouble. He had just observed the third explosion that Fi initiated, which demolished Vespi's army of vehicles.

"Fi, did you ever think that the third detonation was a slight... pardon my selection of words..._overkill_ ?"

They both looked as three separate dark clouds of smoke from three separate areas emerged from the blazing fires. Looking through the binoculars Sam could see men running around, tending to the injured or using hoses and water buckets to douse the flames. It was total chaos down there.

"Overkill? Whatever do you mean, Sam?" asked Fi, "Those explosives are _firecrackers_ in comparison to what else I've brought with me. I almost wished they hadn't given up so quickly."

"Fi, you do understand that these are actually _people's lives_ you are dealing with?" Sam asked, "These bombs you so callously placed everywhere could actually harm people."

"They are _not_ 'callously placed', as you so-called worded it" argued Fi, "I've carefully strategized each placement for maximum damage."

Fi looked at Sam as if he were a kid and she the adult.

"Sam, you are so much like Michael sometimes," she said.

"Well, thank you, Fi..."

"Oh, _please,_ Sam, like I would pay you a compliment."

"Okay, my bad. Can I just pretend I understood your comment so that I don't have to hear it now?

"No," said Fi, "And because you've said that, I will make the explanation even longer... What I'd meant by you _being like Michael_ is that both of you spend too much time _thinking_ instead of _doing_. Always wondering if you are morally doing the right thing. Sometimes you just need to _react_. Like they say, _the end __justify the means._"

Sam looked through the binoculars to watch for any activity as he spoke.

"Yeah, I get that we destroy the bad guys, but sometimes innocent people get hurt. It's wrong to hurt or maim regular folks and just attribute the accomplished destruction to collateral damage."

Fiona loaded another one of her firearms.

"You think there are any innocent bystanders among _Vespi's group of goons? _Come on, Sam! We injure or kill bad people to save the good ones. That's good enough for me!"

Fi took out her M16 assault rife with laser and scope for one last shot. She braced the butt of the weapon on her shoulder and breathed deeply. Being an expert marksperson, she knew controlled breathing was essential for pinpoint accuracy when shooting with firearms.

Peering through the scope finder, she located the main room of the Farmhouse. To anyone peering inside that room, the place appeared empty. But Fi knew everyone in that room was flat on the ground. She didn't blame them, as Sam and she had just finished emptying their ammunition into that room.

She looked elated when she spotted, through her scope, the raised head of one of the goons. A perfect target for her one final shot. She aimed and fired just above his head.

_PEW!_

A perfect hit.

Through her scope she saw the guy's head quickly disappear once more and smiled in satisfaction.

"See, Sam," said Fi, "I shot and he's still alive. I am all about _control_ now..."

"You know, Fi-" began Sam, but stopped when he thought he heard some noise behind him.

Too late. Before they could react, both Fiona and Sam were whacked in their backs with the butts of two rifles.

"Drop everything in your hands, or you're dead!" one of the thugs commanded as they twirled the weapons around so that the barrels were now aimed at Sam and Fi.

The goons had managed to locate Sam and Fi's secret hiding place.

Fiona and Sam had dropped whatever they had been holding in their hands. Both now were tenderly rubbing the backs of their shoulders.

"Crap, you two!" Sam accused them, "I _get it_. We're on the losing end. But did you have to hit the lady so hard, too?"

Fi just wished she hadn't been hit in exactly the same spot that Seymour's drug foe had hit. That was going to be one huge bruise on her back.

"That's fine, Sam, if he wants to beat up on an unarmed woman," Fi spoke up, as she glared at Goon A, "He would not want to be accused of sexism."

Goon A sniggered "Oh, you're funny!" he smiled, before it quickly disappeared. He whacked Fi again with his weapon, this time on her arm.

"Hey!" said Sam, "Knock that off!"

Sam started to get up and this time was whacked in the side of the face with the barrel of the weapon. It took him awhile to get up.

"You shut up! I want both of you to _put your hands above your heads!"_ demanded Goon A, "unless one of you wants another 'incentive' hit!"

Sam and Fi did as instructed. Goon A noted how Sam had been eyeing a weapon that was lying on the ground quite a distance from him. Goon A kicked the desired weapon away from Sam and Fi's reach.

"Go ahead and try something, grandpa, and that applies to you, too, Babe," threatened Goon A to Sam and Fi, as he held a gun to them, "i dare you. No one will hear your screams."

"Couldn't you be more original with what you say?" asked Sam, "It sounds so unimaginable when you quote lines from a 'B' movie."

Goon A jabbed Sam in the back, "What the hell you say to me, Grandpa?"

"Sam, I don't think he was quoting a line from a movie, because he didn't get the quote right," piped in a fearless Fi, with her hands still above her head.

Goon A didn't know what the hell they meant.

"I do believe you are right, Fiona, "said Sam, "I think the line is, 'No one will hear you scream'. Of course, I could be wrong. What do you two guys think?"

"Aren't you asking the guy who got it wrong in the first place?" pointed out Fi.

"Shut up! Damn it!" said Goon A, as he aimed his gun at them. Goon B started gathering all the Sam and Fi's weapons that were spewed on the ground to give to Vespi for future use.

"Damn, Ray," said Goon B, looking at Sam and Fi's vast selection. "They have enough here to level a whole compound!"

"Knucklehead!" snapped Goon A, "_What do you think they just did_?"

"Golly gee, thank you," sneered Fi, " Is this the part where I blink back tears because you've just made me feel _oh-so-special?_"

Goon A cocked his weapon, "I hate her. Let's just shoot her point-blank." he suggested.

"Geez," said Sam, "Your plan is just so...so...diabolically complicated."

_KUNK._

Before the goons could make another move, Goon B was struck on the head with something hard.

Goon B's eyes rolled in the back of his head. He had been struck in the back of the head with a large rock, courtesy of Nate. Goon B collapsed on the ground.

Nate had a look of satisfaction, "Life is like a mountain path filled with rocks; yet if we use just one of those rocks, it will stop being an obstacle."

Everyone seem to freeze in time. Nate looked at Sam and Fi's faces.

"_What_? **_What_?**" asked Nate, "I can't have _thoughts_ in my head?"

Sam responded, "Uh...You gotta cut down on reading fortunes from fortune cookies, Buddy."

Goon A suddenly turned his rifle, aiming it on Nate.

At the same time, a gun suddenly appeared out of nowhere and was shoved in Goon A's ear. It was, of course, Michael. He held Goon A in a headlock, as the gun remained pointed in Goon A's ear.

Sam grinned when he saw Michael, "What's wrong, Mikey? Is waxy build-up a problems for your new friend over there?"

Goon A had stopped struggling as Michael answered, "Don't worry, Sam, Dr. Glock can solve that problem!"

Fi had perked up at the Michael's presence. When he saw her appreciatively gazing at him, he shot a slight smile in her direction. At the simple acknowledgement, she felt a little glow in her heart.

Sam cleared his throat.

Goon A had noted Michael distraction. He felt this was the time to act. He elbowed Michael hard, as Michael felt instant pain in his ribcage. With Michael folded over, Goon A started to make a run for it.

But he was not fast enough. Michael reached out and grabbed the guy's wrist. He then pulled Goon A's forearm against the back of the man's elbow and pulled it all the way back in a way it was not intended to bend. The guy dropped to the ground in pain. Michael applied more pressure until he heard a snap and the man gave an agonized outcry.

Fi and Sam had no reaction as they dispassionately looked at the two bodies on the ground.

"Thank you Michael, Nate" said Fi as she picked up her Uzi, "Thank god this is over! I was so afraid.."

Nate's eyes got big, "YOU afraid, Fiona?"

Fi sighed impatiently, "Yes. I was so afraid that I would have to put up with more deep, introspective talks from Sam."

"Oh... well... _excuse me_ if blowing up people does NOT make me semi-euphoric!" said Sam.

"Sam, it's _not_ the blowing up of people that produces the semi- euphoric feeling; it's the blowing up of _the ones that deserve it_ that brings on that kind of feeling."

The barely conscious goons were still on the ground, now writhing loudly with pain.

Fi kicked them, and she spoke angrily.

_"I can barely hear myself talking about annihilating people! Stop groaning so loud!"_

The moans actually started to sound muffled.

Fi gave Sam a satisfied look, "See? That's what I mean. Only the ones that deserve it."

Michael shook his head as he once again thought: gotta love Sam, gotta love Fi.

Michael had called Elizabeth on his cell phone to tell her to bring the car around as Nate was now bringing a shaky Ruthie into their group as Sam and Fi greeted her.

Ruth had witnessed what everyone had done. She thanked them profusely as she sat down to rest. She felt exhausted, but her spirits were high.

"Is everyone in the world knowledgeable about weaponry and fighting, except me?" asked Ruth, surveying everyone with a half smile.

"Not _everyone_," explained Michael, smiling back, "after all, there has to be someone on the other side that needs the rescuing, too. Otherwise, what would be the purpose of knowing all that fighting stuff?"

"Well, I hope it's never me that needs the rescuing, again." grinned Ruthie. She gave a tired sigh as she turned to Nate, "Of course, it was all worth it this time since I got to see my brave, wonderful spy husband at work!"

Nate looked tenderly at the love of his life.

"Actually, Ruthie, there's something I need to tell you about my spy work-" Nate began as Michael interrupted.

Michael proudly patted his brother on the shoulder.

"In due time, Nate, " said Michael, "For now, let's go home."

Home. That word never sounded so wonderful.

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_One chapter to go!_

_Please review_


	27. Chapter 27

A goodbye and a hello

Chapter 27

Carlito's by day is a tropical paradise, but at night the scene is as hot as its sunsets. Night clubbers drink and dance the night away while the place vibrates with sensual Afro-Cuban rhythms.

It was almost closing time as Michael, Fi, Sam, Elizabeth, Nate and Ruthie sat around the table for their last night out. Together, they had been on a rollercoaster of an adventure. In the morning, Nate, Ruthie and Elizabeth would be leaving for Las Vegas.

"Thank you, everyone, from the bottom of my heart," said Ruthie as she looked around the table, ending with a proud Nate, "for rescuing me and for especially re-enforcing the idea that I had married the right man."

Awww, everyone seemed to say as she leaned into Nate for a short kiss. Michael smiled, happy that Nate had this wonderful relationship with this amazing woman.

After the affectionate gesture, a grinning Nate reached over and gave Michael a friendly slap, "A lot of the credit goes to my Bro here…you came through for me…once again."

Michael looked at his only brother with pride.

If a spy is smart, he will come to the realization that no matter how many people pass through his life, it's family that will always be there for him.

Of course, it's what they do once they are there that Michael finds troublesome. But not tonight.

"Nate," Michael said sincerely, "I am glad I have you as my brother."

"And you, too, Bro," said Nate, "It's nice having a brilliant, brave person in the family. And after this experience I can truly say that it wasn't you!"

Everyone laughed.

Nate then pointed both of his index fingers dramatically at Michael in a right-back-at-you gesture, "Brothers, right? Brothers to the end!" Michael returned the gesture with a punch to Nate's arm.

Everyone smiled at the touching brotherly moment.

"I would like to make the final toast," announced Sam, above the fray. He lifted his mojito and everyone followed suit with their individual drink. He glanced around the table at the people he considered family, " Here's to family...for like an acorn tree, it comes with a few nuts."

"Yeah..Uh...oo-_kay_...uh..." everyone looked unsure as they clinked their glasses together and took one last sip.

"_Psst._.. don't give up your day job, Sam," suggested Nate, leaning over, "...which reminds me to ask, What _is_ your day job?"

"Not being near you," replied Sam.

"Well," stated Elizabeth, after she finished her drink, "I think I will be the first one to call it a night. And Sam, I'll see you tomorrow." She pushed her chair back.

"Oh really now… _Sam_ is it?" asked Ruth with a teasing smile.

"Hey, why the look of surprise?" asked Sam, mockingly, "Why is it so shocking to the world that I may have someone special in my life?"

"He's right, everyone," announced Nate, "After all, Sam is a great catch! He only has two faults: what he says and what he does."

Everyone laughed, including Sam.

"So..." continued Ruth, "Don't change the subject, Liz, what is going on between _you and Sam_?"

"Oh! it's not what you think, " Elizabeth explained, "Tomorrow I plan on introducing Sam to my Aunt Elsa, who lives in South Beach. I think they'll hit it off."

Sam lifted his drink, "Here's to the lovely ladies of SoBe..."

Elizabeth said all her goodbyes and had gathered her purse when Fi turned to Michael.

"Michael," Fi stated,"I think it would be nice if you would escort Elizabeth to her car. Make sure she is safe."

Dead silence from the table as everyone looked first at Fi and then at Michael.

When lightening -or Fi- didn't strike Michael, he knew it was safe to get up. He gave one more look at Fi as she mouthed the word, "trust." He flashed a smile at her as he helped Elizabeth up.

The quiet, cool night air felt wonderful after being in the stuffy din of Carlito's. The noise from the bar slowly faded in the background. Michael and Elizabeth were alone in the dark, as they talked about nothing in particular until they reached her car. Elizabeth turned and leaned her back against the car. In the moonlight, there was a soft glow of reflective light around her as her eyes genuinely sparkled.

"Michael, "she began, "I never thought I would say this, but Las Vegas seems so normal after all of this!"

"It's a crazy life, I agree," admitted Michael, as he looked right at her, "And Elizabeth, I'm sorry we couldn't have met in better circumstances, but nevertheless, you really held your own throughout. I wish for you only the best."

She accepted his words. Elizabeth sadly knew they would never talk alone like this again.

"Fi is a very lucky woman."

"No, I am the lucky one," admitted Michael.

She smiled that marvelous smile of hers, but this time there was a tinge of regret in her eyes.

"I guess this is the part where I say _I wish there was a different ending for us,_" Elizabeth candidly blurted out.

Michael looked down, slightly embarrassed, before he spoke.

"Then I guess this is the part then where I would say, _Well, if I didn't have Fi_…"

His voice trailed off as he shrugged his shoulders, not really knowing what else to say.

Her smiled disappeared as she looked solemnly at him, "I think, Michael, after all we've been through, we can be honest. I've seen the way you look at Fi, and I know you would have never looked at me that way, though I'd wished differently…Thank you for everything and good-bye, Michael Westen. It certainly has been…an experience... knowing you."

She reached up to give him a last peck on the cheek. A farewell gesture from a friend. As she moved away from him, the last thing he would always remember was her captivating smile. He helped her get in the car and watched her as she drove away.

Fi. He couldn't wait to get back to her.

He returned back to the table. Everyone was engaged in some small talk, but Michael only had eyes for Fi. As he sat down, he reached over and placed his hand lightly over hers as he smiled at her. An exciting leap of sensation seemed to pass between them from the touch.

Michael could not take his eyes off her as he stared in her eyes, aching to be alone with her.

His thoughts were interrupted as Fi's phone buzzed. She picked it up immediately and stared at the text message. She looked at Michael, a pang of regret on her face. She interrupted everyone's conversation to make an announcement.

"Everyone, sorry but I have to go. Seems I have to pick up a bail jumper before he disappears again."

"_Now_?" Ruthie looked incredulous, "It's the middle of the night!"

"That's the nature of the business," explained Fi, "We don't run on a schedule."

She turned to get Michael' s reaction.

Michael wanted to tell her not to go, that another opportunity will present itself at a later time. Selfishly, he wanted her with him. But how many times had he chosen to do a job when he could have spent time with her?

"Michael?" Fi waited for...she didn't know what. Michael knew that all he had to say was for her not to go and she would not leave.

"You have a job to do... Fi, " he said understandably, "I'll be waiting you afterwards."

xxx

It was near midnight by the time Michael had returned back to the loft. Somehow this place was just a dwelling, a place to keep all his belongings.

Only with the presence of Fi did it feel like home.

He wished he could feel this was his home all the time. An idea entered his head.

Tomorrow, he would go buy some lumber to make a shelf, somewhere for her to place her snow globes. After all, she already had a place in his heart. He smiled to himself as he tried to deivse a way to glue down her missile-launching snow globes to the shelf, because,well, it's better to play it on the safe side. But that was a worry for another day, another time.

It was very late, yet his mind and body felt so restless. He really needed to get some of this stored energy out of him. _Listen to him_, he's beginning to think like Fi!

He looked across the way at his punching bag. He removed his shirt.

Ten minutes later he was standing arms length away from the bag. He was in ready position, with his elbows touching his rib cage, standing on the balls of his feet.

He threw the first jab with his left hands at the bag. He followed it with another jab and finished with a cross using the right hand. Jab, jab cross. That would be his pattern for this workout.

Michael used the entire bag, throwing punches high and low while moving side to side as he circled the bag. His feet never stopped moving. He was getting a good workout. A sheen of perspiration covered his bare chest, as his matted hair clung to his head. His concentration was focused solely on the bag.

A spy knows a punching bag workout is an excellent way to prepare for combat training. A punching bag cannot retaliate, making it the ideal opponent.

Michael visualized the bag as an opponent as he used lateral movements to bob and weave. His bag became a living, breathing opponent, throwing its own combination of punches.

As a challenge, he swung the bag, imagining it to be a moving opponent.

It was during the swinging of the bag that he noticed someone standing behind it. It was Fi. The punching bag had been obscuring his view of her. The bag continued to swing.

Michael stopped the bag from swaying as he tried to calm his breathing.

"Fi," he was still breathing hard as he took a break. Once his breathing became normal, his expression showed he was obviously pleased to see her before his look turned to concern.

"Did everything go alright with your job?" Michael asked, "It seemed to hardly take any time at all."

She shrugged, "I showed up, acquainted him with his right tibia, and before I knew it, it was over." She let out a sigh, "I'm just glad I don't get paid by the hour."

Michael smiled. So like Fi.

"I'm glad you're back," Michael smiled, "but…do you always have do that?"

Fi looked at him curiously, "Do what, Michael?"

"Stop by… uninvited?" He asked, teasingly.

"It's the only way people will have me, Michael."

"Not the only way, Fi."

She smiled seductively.

Michael watched with utter fascination as Fi walked around the bag to face him. She took in every detail of his somewhat damp body. She was so close, as she reached out to touch the defined muscles on his chest with exquisite gentleness. His gleaming upper torso was as hard as iron.

"Looks like your workout was a success," she said with admiration in her eyes.

He gazed at her upturned face. Lifting his hand to the side of her throat, he stroked her skin with the back of his knuckles. For a tough woman, she had the softest of skin. Fi swallowed and he felt her shiver at his light touch.

He leaned in and brought his lips onto hers. His pulse beat wildly as her arms slid around the back of his neck. He felt her lips soften under his commanding ones before he stopped to separate his body from hers. He was feeling self-conscious.

"Fi," his voice low, "I'm all sweaty. Before we take this any further, I need to take a shower."

His dark gaze captured hers as Fi again ran her fingers across his chest, "If your comment was meant as an invitation for me to join you, the answer is yes...But I better warn you- you'll only get sweaty again."

Michael smiled and stole a short, hard kiss from her, "I won't be the only one getting sweaty, Fi.." he claimed, raising his eyebrows mischievously up and down, "but for now...the first one in the shower, gets the hot water side..."

Fiona grinned. "But the_ last_ person gets control of the directional shower head..." she commented as they raced to the shower.

A spy knows he has a girlfriend when he wants to build a shelf for her snow globe collection, when he gifts her the warm side of the shower, and finally when he wants to share every aspect of his life with her.

And Michael wanted all three, for he knew he never _ever_ wanted to be without Fiona Glenanne again. Ever.

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_The end!_

This story zipped by quickly...it wrote itself and I never developed writer's block until this last chapter. I think it was mostly caused by not wanting it to end!

I will take a short break, and then my next story will be titled "Seymour of the World," in which I am sure you can guess who their next client will be!

Thank you, my fanfic buds, for being the great friends you have become:_ moe38, i luv ewansmile, btrlover, BurnedmichaelY, HappyHere, airesrobin, Storyfan 101, RedHearts, Italian Yakuza, coolaquarian, VeeFall (and for anyone else who was kind enough to review)_

To my rays of sunshine: _mfnikki97, jellybellykelly, and gilraenstar_

Also, all the fantastic anonymous reviewers.

And finally two people who make me smile everyday: _Amanda Hawthorn_ and _Purdy's Pal_

I have read and cherished each and every review. Writing this story has been a joy.

I humbly thank all of you for taking time out from your very busy lives to read this.

_I hope I was able to make you smile!_


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